Bonfires are great in the way you are freezing cold on one side and burning hot on the other.
The primrose way to the everlasting bonfire
To behold the wandering moon
Riding near her highest noon
Like one that had been led astray
Through the heavens wide pathless way
And oft, as her head be bowed
Stooping through a fleecy cloud
Originally posted on The Chirurgeon’s Apprentice:
I remember rummaging through an old trunk in my grandmother’s house when I was a child and coming across what seemed to me at the time a very unusual photograph. It was a monochromatic image of a beautiful, young woman lying in a white casket (not dissimilar to the photo on the left).
Curious, I plucked the photo from the trunk and went to find…