May. 17, 2012 at 3:27pm with 40 notes
Reblogged from cotton-roots
“
You said
is there anything which
is dead or alive more beautiful
than my body, to have in your fingers
(trembling ever so little)?
Looking into
your eyes
Nothing, I said, except the
air of spring smelling of never and forever.

…

Do you believe in always, the wind
said to the rain
I am too busy with
my flowers to believe,the rain answered
— E. E. Cummings (via shesinacoma)
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