Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.

tarnishedsoul:

She walked in valley green,

her bare toes caressed

by the lush grass meadow,

her hands clasped, with

almost a reverence, her

beloved copy of Wuthering Heights.

The small blue flower, 

with golden eye, caught

her fancy, and she plucked

one of the delicate blooms up…

“Forget-me-not, I believe.”

She said with a sage nod,

and placed the flower, gently,

between the pages of the novel.

She was a believer in signs,

and hoped that she would

never, ever, be forgotten.