Here lies an unfinished tale.
Written by a girl with a taut spool
of golden thread and a keyboard,
waiting until soft crepuscule
fades
fades
on hope and tears,
and life to take its long arms
to carry her into
the heart of
to carry her into
the heart of
a place she can call her
own.
" . . . and yet there is something so amiable in the prejudices of a young mind, that one is sorry to see them give way to the
reception of more general opinions."
- Jane Austen
"Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."
[The Tempest- Act 4, scene 1, 148–158]
- William Shakespeare
Welcome to my story.
