That time of year thou mayst in me behold
(excerpt) William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang








That time of year thou mayst in me behold
(excerpt) William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang








it’s the monday giggles…
That summer bikini body
wasn’t ready.
But that
fall sweater body
Continue reading “day is done…gone the sun”