I’m besotted with June, When all the roses bloom. I’m head over heel with the scents, The roses exude. Though they prick me. Oh yes, they prick me! I’m too infatuated to care. D. Yustisia 06/12/16

Traveller’s Rest

When you are tired of the long road and the open sky, I wish it may be my door that you’re passing by: I wish it may be my hearth where you will sit down And tell your tales of the land and sea and the strange far town.   Oh, come you in from…