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Tag Archives: wildling wood
at never being kissedat being dissed at having missed out on kingdom things. or perhaps he hops (happily) wild in the woodssheds all those shouldsand at nightfall, he sings. :: It’s Wednesday. We poem.
There is laughter when they think of all they were supposed to be, all corseted and silver-spoon fed with feet crammed into ridiculous shoes. Here, even the steeds are unshod and trail-trod, mudlucious in their gorgeous freedom. This forest is flush with both silence and song. Here, they choose. … Continue reading