Saturday, 2 November 2013

She Brought Her Cupped Hands...

She brought her cupped hands towards her face, they broke through the light, which pooled around her bronze tresses. Her little maid knelt before her, quiet, solicitous, skin as light and white as her linen robes, eyes as pale as moonlight. They prayed, they sang to the milky dawn, they sang to the rising tide.

No comments:

Post a Comment