A rich life
has nothing to do with
money.
Continue reading “someone…”If I told you a secret –
would you promise not to laugh?
It’s a place of fairytales
made up only in my dreams.
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