Chilly September. The doorway to a new season. I could smell the aroma of cinnamon
At the end of the day, what’s in a name? By any other name, I would smell as sweet.
Sunday afternoon Lonely in the quiet apartment I heard drops of sadness dripping onto the notebook Longing for laughter Yearning … More
took me to the sweet lane of the past to the age of innocence of blackboards and white chalk of … More