the old king is dead

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low
And the stars are shining bright.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Indian Serenade (via thejoyofrain)

Posted on October 15 2009

One with an interest in stories. Decidedly male, regardless of his aesthetic. My Tumblr is where I wear my metaphorical heart on my equally metaphorical sleeve.