I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation,

I am eating apples, masked in gentleness, dreaming of one hundred acres.
Lately, I've been feasting on drips of lemon water, and the bewilderment of leaves.   The summer tints of white flowers, and exposed foliage are whirling into abandon. Orange flecks, and yellow sparks are frisking every Oak Tree.  Autumn is here, and our maps become stained with a new season.

The weeks are passing.  Straying, and leaving wrinkles on the vintage folk.
I've been coating myself in school feathers.  Short stories about lonely planets, grammar musings, and banana bread for cooking class.  I am thankful I live in a world full of warm tea, and soapy water baths.    If it wasn't for the sensations of warmth in my belly, I might belong to the cobwebs. If it wasn't for flower crowns, banjo songs, and soft palms,   I might fall... slow and tired,  like the working mule.

With freckles of sunlight in my eye, and an evocation of love surrounding me,  I can drift deeply. I can wander towards a foreign earth, a home where worries migrate, just like the wild fowl.  My black dog, my cotton bed, and a book of poems cast their spells, and suddenly, I can drink my milk without spilling.  It's as if sprites hang like shapes of cotton above me.
It is here, I roam. Towards peace of mind, and playfulness. 

The afternoon teapot is singing, my cup is empty,  and I am thirsty.   This weekend brings me towards sun kissed Autumn, take out Friday,  Fashionsign magazine launch party,  and lots of charm-dropping sprites.  Kisses from me, to you, to your pa, to your ma, to your spoon.

“Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.”


title quote, and "quotations"  by walt whitman
photography by carter
words by amy

what i wore

high waisted jeans- vintage from cats eye vintage(local boutique) $40
striped top- Good Will(thrifted) $5
rabbit ring- The Bay $24 (thanks mum) x

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