Drawn to you like a moth to flame; Unbeknownst to you, Unbeknownst to me, If I'll glow with your light or be reduced to ashes... -Natasha Gracious
When It Rains
Skies swollen grey with tints of majesty, Trees slumber under a misty spell, Billowy clouds part momentary, Sunbeams dive deep into the verdant dell. Wings of winds deliver your scent, I'm bathed, I'm drenched, I smell of you. Where art thou, O' angel of torment? Do the winds not whisper how I burn for you?... Continue Reading →
Natasha Gracious 