jonespoppyseed:
and what will the robin do then, poor thing
jonespoppyseed:
shake the trees and paint the town red
jonespoppyseed:
each brittle and delicate glass
jonespoppyseed:
driven to abstraction
jonespoppyseed:
ice ice baby
jonespoppyseed:
we all speak well of a bridge that carries us over
jonespoppyseed:
riding through the snow
jonespoppyseed:
We Was Only Playing Snowballs
jonespoppyseed:
a sweet smell from somewhere
jonespoppyseed:
a dedicated follower of fashion
jonespoppyseed:
a white empty sky
jonespoppyseed:
the hunting bird
jonespoppyseed:
Christmas at Crai