It is only November and I am craving Spring.
The spirit of Kitty, my grandmother, is causing trouble again.
She's walking through the wildflowers of Wales.
How bright the sky, sweet the perfumed air of April.
The cold sky is ordering me to put her into a drawer
with my softest scarves, the lavender sachet,
safely closed up for another season.
The spirit of Kitty, my grandmother, is causing trouble again.
She's walking through the wildflowers of Wales.
How bright the sky, sweet the perfumed air of April.
The cold sky is ordering me to put her into a drawer
with my softest scarves, the lavender sachet,
safely closed up for another season.
Such an interesting juxtaposition of spirit and warmth and coldness.
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