Love Story on the Watchtower

At 2 am in the morning, I want to be an elf. Or a hobbit. But definitely not a man. Elves murmur like water in brooks. And white, their dresses. And dragons, they tame. Or a hobbit. Gardening. Pipes. And food. I love smials, I love bare feet. I love curly hair; green, yellow. To fall in love with an elf, immortal and enchanted. He’d sing me songs, they’d sing our love. We will ride dragons and live in a tower, overseeing the whole of land. The whole of life, then we’d kiss.

[photo: http://www.msbarchitects.com/blog/]

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