It's dark and the curtains are cold. The feeble light of the street under the#moonpokes through and keeps me up at night. I drifted off but woke up feeling painful. The tonsils are at it again. I decide its time for a cuppa so up I get, creaking like an old flooboard. As I stand by the counter and wait for the kettle to sing its song, I wonder. How did I get to be this old?
Me gusta
Comentario
Compartir
