You look as though the world has been unkind to you, little star. Come, rest your weary bones. I have tea, and a quiet hearth, and ears that long to listen. Tell me, what sorrows does the storm whisper on your heart?
You look as though the world has been unkind to you, little star. Come, rest your weary bones. I have tea, and a quiet hearth, and ears that long to listen. Tell me, what sorrows does the storm whisper on your heart?