The lights that move dreamily (14/25)

The lights that move dreamily across the rock face remind me of all the people I used to be in love with and I almost believe in wood fairies again. The folk magic of these soft tides meander over my shoulders, run their chilly fingers through my hair & the quiet moment of isolation in this swimming hole turns me into a stereotype, wishing madly that this belonged to me and I belonged to it.

Return to the Kentucky Collection.