My Italian true love dislikes the weather. Overcast. Cool.
Here in Minnesota.
In August. But it makes no difference to
me. Because I am in love. With her. With life. I’m reminded of when we were
traveling. In Scotland. And the weather on the moors was damp and
cool. Seemed so perfect. Because that’s the way it was supposed to be. I take
perceived imperfection. And make perfection. So easy. So easy. So easy. The
easiest thing in the world. –Jim Broede
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment