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Friday, November 26, 2010
Your eyes are so sharp, so blue, when they meet mine it is like fireworks, a burning in the back of my brain.
Stare at me again? I rather like pins being stuck in my eyes.
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There's heather in the meadows, there's heather by the sea. There's heather in the garden, for that's what they named me.
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The abundance of words and array of pictures that are located on this blog, are possessions of Heather Marie, unless she tells you that they are not, in which case you must not believe that they are hers.
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