some things are meant to be

home    archive    theme
©
Of these cut-throat busted sunsets, these cold and damp white mornings, I have grown weary. If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips I spoke these words out loud, would no one hear me?

Nature’s first green is gold,
Its hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost



6 notes
  1. pavlovssdaughter reblogged this from life-is-an-oxymoron
  2. countingallthemoonlitstars reblogged this from thecolorsmixtogreyy
  3. life-is-an-oxymoron reblogged this from lovelyhibiscus
  4. lovelyhibiscus reblogged this from thecolorsmixtogreyy
  5. thecolorsmixtogreyy posted this