Near the cottage of old where I was young, the quaint charm of the English garden. Where time has not weathered with due harm, swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air.
Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst of a sunny afternoon. Seconds where dreams danced on the moon, sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath. Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes where a thousand of narcissus bloom.