With the assistance of the very talented Luna and having taken inspiration from the remarkable Trée I have found myself rather occupied for the past couple of days.

Firstly, I have renamed all the 'Sins' posts to Royds and although future posts shall continue to appear here on Miladysa they will also appear elsewhere; more of that in a moment.

I was intending to write an introduction for the Royds story when I hit upon what I believe to be a bright idea and that was to ask you, the readers to write one line each as your introduction to the story.

I thought this might be a bit of fun and if you take part, I intend to post all the 'one liners' in the story introduction HERE

So, what do you say?

Labels: Fiction, Miladysa, RoYds

Posted by Miladysa at 6:51 PM 33 Comments

Photograph taken from the BBC Website

The Prince of Wales's communications secretary, Paddy Harverson, said:
"Prince Harry is very proud to serve his country on operations alongside his fellow soldiers and to do the job he has been trained for."

In an interview while in the Afghan province, Harry talked about life as a soldier on the front line.

"I haven't really had a shower for four days, I haven't washed my clothes for a week.

"It's very nice to be sort of a normal person for once, I think it's about as normal as I'm going to get."

Labels: Afghanistan, Prince Harry

Posted by Miladysa at 5:39 PM 39 Comments

Edinburgh Castle


A guid roarin fire
kettle on the boil
is very very cosy
when ye's done a days toil!

A gid roarin fire
and a clean hearthstaine
are very very cosy
when a chap comes haime!


After a hard day's work my 2 x great grandfather Andrew would come home and sing the song above to his children. Unfortunately, I have no photograph of him to share with you, my only heirlooms being the tablecloth that was used for his wedding breakfast and his personal copy of the History of Leith.

Andrew was born in South Leith, Edinburgh in 1858, he was the father of Andrew and the grandfather of Donald. At the time of his birth, Andrew was his parents seventh child and their fourth son, a further brother and three sisters were to follow him.

By the time Andrew left school four of his sisters had died and two of his brothers had already chosen their careers and left home, one to live and work in England, the other to live and work in India.

The third brother set up a business and decided to remain in Edinburgh and Andrew himself followed his father and older brother into the leather trade.

In 1878 Andrew married Ellen the daughter of a wealthy baker and together they decided to venture forth and make their way in the world, their chosen destination, Lancashire, England and more specifically the port of Liverpool. In 1878 practically anything which left or entered the UK had a route through Liverpool.

Sometime around 1889 after eleven years of living amongst the English, Andrew and Ellen decided to remain in England and move deeper into Lancashire. By this time, they had five surviving children of their own [twin daughters had died shortly after birth] and one child, a son, had a disease that was known then as Consumption, better known to us today as TB. The hospital in their chosen town had an excellent reputation and so Andrew moved his family into a house in a street close by.

Andrew and his wife Ellen were campaigners for social reform, both were Fabians and Ellen and her daughters were Suffragettes. They also moved in literary circles and were friends of George Bernard Shaw. Their home was host to political debate and discussion, their daughters were treated equally to their sons and were encouraged to think for themselves.

Andrew welcomed in the 2oth Century while still living in England and then, his homeland Scotland began to call to him and he made the decision to move for the last time in his life and returned to South Leith.

In 1919 at the age of sixty one Andrew died a few hundred yards from the home in which he had been born, he was a victim of the Spanish Flu Pandemic that had swept the world.

I was lucky enough to learn a lot of what I know of Andrew from his youngest daughter Ellen who was 97 years old when she died. Up until a few years before her death Ellen continued to live in the home her parents moved to upon their return to Scotland. From the rear of the house one could see Arthur's Seat , from the front of the house a view of Edinburgh Castle. Everything in the home was as it had been in 1906 with only a few additions; it was a perfect time capsule, the memory of which shall remain with me forever.

Labels: Family History, Genealogy, Miladysa, Way Back Wednesday

Posted by Miladysa at 12:01 AM 30 Comments

View from the viaduct looking East
























View from the viaduct looking West
























The pond in springtime for Ces

Labels: Lancashire, Miladysa, Photographs

Posted by Miladysa at 10:23 AM 24 Comments

Inspired by the photography of my dear friend Melissa and the amazing poet RRN I decided to post some further photographs of our wonderful Lancashire countryside.

























The view above is captured from the road passing by our home and looking across the top of the Dell to the moors beyond. The trees you can see in the foreground are the tops of some of the trees pictured here. From the road you would never know the dell and its secret places existed.



























I took the photograph above last year during the Spring. The viaduct runs through the dell and was built using locally quarried stone in 1867. It stands 31.5m high above the river, there are eight arches, each with a 24m span. A train once ran across the top of it, today it is a walkway from which the views are breathtaking and a home to some of our bat population. The old photograph below gives a better idea of its actual size. As an indication of the depth of the Dell the viaduct is not visiable from the road above but if it was you would have to look down in order to see it.






























This photograph of the pond within the Dell is another one of my attempts inspired by the talented Anon. The white duck pictured has lived with the other members of our duck population for at least two years. I took this photograph last week and although the sun was shining the pond was frozen apart from the small amount of water you can see here.






















My attempt to take a photograph of the frozen water was hindered by the rays of the sun and the result is pictured below.















































Spring is not too far away though and soon we shall be able to enjoy a walk through the Dell under its leafy canopy as we did last year.

Labels: Lancashire, Miladysa, Photographs

Posted by Miladysa at 6:46 PM 29 Comments

William [hereinafter called the Accused] stands charged before the undersigned, one of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace in and for the [County] [Borough] this 17th day of July in the year of our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred and Forty with the following offence:-

Statement of Offence

MURDER




























William was my maternal grandfather and the inspiration for the character Billy, those of you who have read the Sins posts from the beginning already know as much about him as I do.

I know nothing of his early life, only that he married my grandmother in 1930 and what I have uncovered about the events of that fateful night in 1940 from the newspaper reports of the trial and the few court records which have survived.

I met William once in the 1960s when I was a small child and we shared a mug of strong sweet tea. I can clearly recall his wonderful broad Lancashire accent.

To all accounts William was first and foremost a man of violence although I was told by one source that he was great company, a man's man. According to the reports of his trial he had made an excellent soldier who was naturally talented with explosives.

The photograph above would have been taken upon his enlistment into the army during WWII and before he was charged with the murder of my great grandmother.

At the time of his trial, knowledge of the sinking of the Lancastria was not in the public domain and even today the events of that fateful afternoon and evening are still classified as 'Secret' and will not be made public until to 2040. A fight is currently underway by the remaining survivors and their supporters to have the restrictions lifted. If they are not successful I shall be an old woman indeed when I eventually get to lay eyes on the official reports.

Although William survived the sinking of the Lancastria the hours he spent in the water certainly took their toil upon his health and no doubt contributed to his early death.




















Bond Book Cover
The Lancastria Sinking


For some reason the book cover above haunts me more than any photograph I have seen of the sinking or any survivor accounts I have read. One of those men screaming for help was my grandfather and he was still screaming four weeks later, unfortunately it would be several decades until Post Traumatic Stress Disorder would be recognised as such.

Labels: Family History, Genealogy, Miladysa, Way Back Wednesday

Posted by Miladysa at 12:01 AM 28 Comments

One of the things I am most grateful to my parents for is that they encouraged me to think for myself and come to my own conclusions. I was always allowed to freely form my own opinions about local and world events, to discuss how those opinions had been formed and taught that it always was and is possible for people to agree to disagree. I took for granted the fact they never enforced their own widely differing beliefs and opinions upon me and it was not until I engaged in discussions with those outside of my family circle that I realised that not everyone had received the benefit of such an environment.

With youth came clarity, I could see clearly what was wrong with the world and knew instinctively how it could be immediately put right. Why wasn’t food equally distributed throughout the world? Why did people thirst when we had the technology to ensure the availability of clean water? If the technology was not available then we should work on making it available, if the disease was not curable all efforts should be made to find the cure. Why did we kill one another by fighting stupid wars? Peace was the answer, why did we fail to solve our differences peacefully?

Despite being of different religions, one atheist and the other Roman Catholic, my parents allowed me to make my own decisions about religion once I had reached the age of eleven and made the transition to senior school. Up until that point, my mother had sent me to Sunday School in every place we ever lived in and there had been many. It was of no concern to my mother which religious organisation ran the school, what was important was that I learned the basic values and principles of Christianity because she believed that most world religions had the same basics, they were just packaged differently. Thus, I was exposed to the Catholic, Anglican, Methodists, Baptist and various other Christian view points.

I am sure that if there had been a Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim version of Sunday Schools which were accesible to me then I would have attended and learned about these religions this way too. As there were not any, my father became my teacher in this respect with his experience of having lived and worked in many different countries and communities.

Everything was so clear to me then, everything was so black and white, and there were such clear distinctions at least in my own mind between what was right and what was wrong.

Today though, deciding exactly where I stand on various issues is not as easy for me as it used to be. Despite it not being politically correct for me to openly say so I often find myself engaged in inner conflict.

Sidney wrote this post discussing ethics.

Torture is wrong right? It should never ever be condoned right?

But if your child/a member of your family was in danger and you thought you had the person who had played a part in creating that danger and you believed they had the key to resolving that danger, would you be prepared to condone their torture?

Zombieslayer wrote this post discussing PETA and their standpoint on the wearing of fur.

The wearing of fur is wrong right? You should not wear fur when there are other alternatives available right?

But if you hunt an animal, eat it and do not waste any part of it including its fur are you not more honest in your treatment of animals than if you buy a chicken or joint of meat from your local supermarket? Is it not more sensible to wear fur than promote the wearing of pleather - a substance which will never decompose?

Living in a free country with a benefits system and a national health service [which are not free but paid for by national insurance contributions from workers] should we not continue to welcome immigrants to our country and ensure that these services are immediately available to them as we have always done so? Should we not encourage their cultures and beliefs even though they may differ widely from our own? Should we not ensure that they exercise the freedom of speech granted to them here?

But if they exercise their right to free speech and call for the murder of our own indigenous peoples for holding dear the very principles that encouraged their immigration to this country in the first place should we create laws to restrict the freedom of speech?

I could nearly always see both sides of an argument and would often play the devils advocate with those whom I considered held blinkered views. However, I am becoming increasingly blurred in my way of thinking, unsure if life experience, world events or the media are playing their part in causing the smudges that are developing on my lens of thought.

One thing I do know for sure, blogging has exposed me to a wider range of opinions and viewpoints than any other medium. Long may it continue!

Labels: Miladysa, Opinions, Thoughts

Posted by Miladysa at 12:35 PM 30 Comments

A crow and the moon in daylight. An omen?


The sun made a rare appearance here this morning and even though the moon was visible throughout the day and the weather remained cold I could not resist a visit to the Dell. By coincidence, while I was actually walking there the fabulously talented Ces was posting her magical drawing of the Dell at Night! I am absolutely over the moon by her wonderful gesture! Thank you Ces!

It was was awesome to discover that Ces had chosen to draw the Dell during the hours of darkness for I have never dared venture there at night-time nor am I aware of anyone else who has done so. By the time the bats begin to stir in their lairs in the early evening hours those of us who live on the edges of the dell ensure that we have already departed its shadowy paths and are closer to home.

For at least one thousand years folk in these parts have told stories of strange happenings in the Dell at night, it was not so long ago that the fairies claimed their last victim and according to the legends even the legendary Robin Hood had a near escape.

Witches, Fairies, Elves and Robin Hood

It is said, that in the 12th Century Robert of Huntingdon was the rightful heir to his Uncle who was the Earl of Huntingdon. However, a ring that would prove Robert’s claim had been stolen from him and he was left unable to prove his claim to his uncle's estates.

One wild night in 1180 a witch magically summoned Robert to the Dell and informed him that by using magic she could help him locate the ring. Robert declined the witch’s offer and so she told him to look into the Holy Well of St. Chadde where he would see his future and change his mind about her offer.

The witch had charmed the holy well so that Robert would see himself as a Lord, however before gazing into the well Robert made the sign of the cross and the well showed him the truth, he was destined to become the outlaw Robin Hood!

Robert was so angry with the witch for attempting to trick him that he tried to kill her but she flew off on her broomstick and escaped.

The Fairy King came to Robert’s aid and presenting him with his Uncle’s missing ring he instructed him to throw the ring into the witches’ cauldron at a place within the Dell known as the Thrutch. When Robert threw the ring into the cauldron it broke into many pieces which flew into the river.

The Fairy King then put a spell upon the witches and turned them into elves and they rushed after the pieces from the cauldron and ran into a fissure in the rock.

Labels: Folkore, Legend, Magic, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 4:27 PM 15 Comments

Because:

You love this photograph even though my hair is a mess

You enjoy cooking

You understand me

You are filled with love

You are a fantastic father

You are a fantastic grandfather

You are a fantastic husband

You are a fantastic lover

You accept me as I am - moods and all

You let me put my cold feet on you when I get into bed at night

You buy me flowers, chocolates and antique jewellery without a reason

You wear combats and that special white hat for me when I am being saucy

You ignore me when I am blogging and listen when I tell you about all the blogs I visit

You give as good as you get and often more

You are capable of putting your foot down when I need you to

You look after me when I am poorly and in pain

You are my toy boy

You enjoy taking five children on holiday as much as I do






















You give Mr Sparks treats

You look absolutely gorgeous with wet hair

You never try to tame me

You love my eccentricity or at least pretend to

You play Troy Tempest and Marina with me in the swimming pool

You master the dry skin on my feet

You buy me expensive underwear

You give me your card to shop online

You take care of my car and are amazed that there are only 35,000 miles on the clock

You laugh when I buy some of my shoes and slippers from the children's section

You threaten to restrict my internet access

You call me Titch and I am 5' 5"

You married me

You wrote this about me

You are the only one for me

You love me

You are YOU


*This post was inspired by Dear Boo

Labels: Miladysa, Valentine

Posted by Miladysa at 10:31 AM 49 Comments

Mary Alice was my paternal grandmother; the photograph above was taken in 1919 to mark her twenty first birthday. Mary Alice was the eldest daughter of Mary Anne and John Willie and she was born and raised in the village I live in today. You can see a much earlier photograph of Mary Alice here.

In 1923, when she was twenty five years old Mary Alice married my grandfather Donald and was immediately disowned by her parents and other members of her family for choosing what was to them an entirely unacceptable match. The next contact with her family would be thirty years later when her father visited her home in person to advise the death of her mother. Less than one month later he too would pass away.

Religion and politics were the two main reasons for the 'disowning'. Mary Alice was from a family of religious dissenters and Donald who was the son of the colourful Eleanor and Andrew, claimed to be an atheist following his experiences on the Somme and throughout the Great War.

Donald also followed in the footsteps of his grandparents Ellen and Andrew, taking an interest in politics and social reform. The election of the First Labour Government was only one year away and although socialism and communism are two completely different kettles of fish the Russian Revolution in 1917 was still fresh in everyone's minds. I can understand that Mary Alice's parents were concerned that their daughter was embroiled with a bunch of revolutionaries although I cannot understand their disowning her.

When I was a child I used to love visiting my grandmother although I was usually on my own with her during these visits as my father was often away and the relationship between my grandmother and my mother could be best described as strained.

Memories of Mary Alice include,

... lilac trees, rhododenrons, plaster dogs, black bathroom tiles, heavy tasselled tablecloths, mahogany furniture, mangles, drying racks, crab apples, margarine, sterilised milk, weetabix, woollen cardigans, cotton pinnies, black quilted bags with gold chain handles and the scent of African Violets ...

I adore the elegance of the young Mary Alice above but by far my favourite photograph of her is the one below. Thirty years, thirteen children and the death of two sons later she is at the half way mark of her life, still living life to the full and going strong.














Mary Alice and three of her nine daughters

Labels: Family History, Genealogy, Miladysa, Way Back Wednesday

Posted by Miladysa at 10:30 AM 18 Comments

Robin Hood's Headstone

The headstone at the grave of Robin Hood reads:

"Hear Underneath dis laitl stean
Laz robert earl of Huntintun
Ne'er arcir ver az hie sa geud
An pipl Kauld im robin heud
Sick utlawz az hi an iz men
Vil england nivr si agen
Obiit 24 Kal. Dekembris 1247"

If you are familiar with the legend of Robin Hood you will know it ends with his murder at Kirklees Priory in Yorkshire, his murderer being a nun who was also his kinswoman. Robin was bleed to death, the blood slowly drained from him, almost vampire like.

According to the legend Robin was aware that he was facing death and with his bow fired an arrow from his death bed through one of the windows of the Priory and far into the distance.

“Bury me wherever my arrow falls.” he is claimed to have said and according to history his last request was granted.

Although the Priory has since been demolished and the stone used to build Kirklees Hall the Gatehouse still exists and the grave of Robin Hood can still be found today. Admitedly the grave is not in its original position, over the years it has been relocated at least three times and today rests on private land and is only accessible to the public by prior arrangement. Not able to visit Yorkshire in person? No problem, you can take a virtual visit to the grave

The original headstone disappeared after 1665 and its replacement was chipped away by visitors who wanted to take a souvenir home with them. The present gravestone dates from the 19th century.

So who was Robin Hood? Why was he at Kirklees Priory in the first place and how much is fact and how much is fiction?

I live in Lancashire and we have our own folklore connected with Robin Hood. The Dell where I live is reputed to have been visited by Robin at least once and the moors above harbour a hiding place which he is said to have made use of. Not too far away is Robin Hood’s Well and there are various other places said to be connected with the legend scattered throughout Lancashire and Yorkshire. There is even a fishing village named Robin Hoods Bay near Scarborough where it is claimed Robin and his Merry Men spent their winters earning a living as fishermen.

So, why do we have all this folklore claiming connections to Robin Hood in Lancashire and Yorkshire if according to all the stories told in modern times his origins lie in Nottingham? Or do they? There are some that claim Robin Hood was from Yorkshire and believe that there is enough evidence to prove the case.

It is not my plan to argue the case for the origins of Robin Hood in this post instead I am providing links to others who have dedicated their time to researching the legends.

The Robin Hood Legend

Bold Outlaw

Robin Hood Outlaw Legend of Loxley

Robin Hood Yorkshire


I know which claim I support, please let me know where your verdict lies.

Labels: Fact or Fiction, Miladysa, Robin Hood

Posted by Miladysa at 10:01 PM 37 Comments

It is no secret that I like to alternate between various blog templates and I thought I would resurrect this one (design by Luna Stone) for a while if only to confuse ZombieSlayer who has been known to tease me about my template changes.

I have managed to install the template so that everything displays correctly if you are using Internet Explorer but for some reason the two columns are not quite spaced correctly when viewed using Firefox. If anyone knows how to solve this problem I would be delighted if you would let me know.

So, do you like it?

Labels: Blog, Design, Miladysa, Template

Posted by Miladysa at 8:06 PM 34 Comments

I never drink champagne
any more
well I do
but only
at weddings
and special occasions
I can't remember
the last time
I stayed up
all night

I am not quite sure
about meeting
not after
all this time
that person
no longer exists
and this one
would not
fit in

I no longer frequent
the right places
or know people
footballers never ask
for my number
or offer
to take
me home
with them

So with everything taken
into consideration
I will not
be attending
and send
in my place
a magnum
of the
finest champagne

Labels: Miladysa, Poem, Poetry

Posted by Miladysa at 6:10 PM 29 Comments

"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori."
~ Wilfred Owen 1893-1918






















Donald [pictured above] was my paternal grandfather and the eldest son of Eleanor and Andrew. He was twenty five years old when this photograph was taken in 1923.

When Donald was sixteen years old a war broke out, one which he was to refer to as the Great War or the War to End All Wars and which we remember today as World War I. Donald was only sixteen years old when along with a few of his friends he enlisted in the Manchester Regiment.

14,000 soldiers from this regiment alone were killed between 1914 and 1918.

I am lucky that my grandfather was one of the survivors.

Most of what I know about the Great War came from what Donald told my father and my father told me. I heard about the boots and uniforms that fell to pieces, the food that contained maggots and that sometimes they had no option but to kill and cook the rats that ran through the trenches.

I heard how Donald tried to sleep while the wounded and dying lay screaming on the wasteland of a battle field above his makeshift bed. I know that he saw men shot for being cowards when they were suffering from what we now know to have been shell-shock.

I grew up in a world were a lighted match was never used more than twice to light a cigarette and I know the reason behind this superstition thanks to what Donald told my father. In case you have never heard of this superstition here is the explanation,

"the first light gives your enemy your position, the second light enables him to take aim and the third light will kill you every time..."

When I read the poetry of Wilfred Owen, an officer who served in my grandfather's regiment I know that I am reading about the events my grandfather lived through.

When this photograph was taken Donald had returned home to live "in a land fit for heroes" something that he had been promised by the Government of the day. Instead, like everyone else, he was greeted by what was to become the great depression of the 1920s and 30s.

He wasn't one to let it get him down though and having boxed for his regiment and coming from a long line of fighters he set about organising a boxing club for the boys and unemployed men in the area. One of those young boys was a lad who was new to the area and who had been experiencing a bit of bullying, his name was Joe Bamford. Amazingly, Joe Bamford would later fight under the name of 'Jock McAvoy' and go on to fight and defeat the World Middleweight Champion Ed 'Babe' Risko, sending him six times to the canvass for a first round knockout!

Donald grew vegetables on his allotment to supplement his income of "two pounds, four shillings and eight pence" from the Means Test [for man, wife and seven children] and he occasionally wrote song lyrics which he would send away to publishers. Miraculously at least one was published, the title being "Bread and Jam for Tea Ma!"

When Donald died he was 63 years old and the father of thirteen children, eleven of whom had survived into adulthood and who went on to have families of their own.

I am not sure if Donald ever saw me as he died shortly after I was born. The strange thing is I can not remember a single day when he was not a part of my life!

Labels: Family History, Genealogy, Miladysa, Way Back Wednesday

Posted by Miladysa at 9:52 PM 30 Comments

"Pancake Tuesday is a lovely day
If you don't give us a holiday
We'll all run away
Where shall we run to?
Down School Lane!
And I'll tell the teacher
And you'll get the cane!"

Pancake Tuesday or 'Shrove Tuesday' to give the day its official title has always been one of my favourite days of the year. Alas! Although we still celebrate the day by eating pancakes for our tea the traditional Pancake Day Races have almost died out.

When I was younger [and I'm younger than Madonna just in case you were wondering], pancakes were reserved for this special day of the year. I can remember running home from school singing the song above and rushing into the house where I would find my parents waiting to perform the sacred tradition of pancake tossing!

My mother would make the basic batter mixture and my father would give it an extra whisk just to make sure it was to the correct consistency as we did not own one of those new fangled electric mixers. Nor, did we own a non-stick frying pan come to that and many a pancake died a scorched death without ever reaching our plates.

My father was as enthusiastic about tossing pancakes as he was with any other task he undertook and so, we had the elite of the pancake tossers in our household. One year I remember that my father tossed a pancake so high it hit the ceiling and stuck there while we ate our tea and then on into the night. It must have landed on the kitchen floor sometime during the early hours of the morning only to be devoured by our less than choosy dog Rex. The unfortunate pancake left behind it a greasy stain on the kitchen ceiling and as a result my mother ensured that my father controlled his tossing enthusiasm in the years that followed.

In our household pancakes have always been accompanied with lemon juice and a light dusting of sugar - not too much sugar though as an overdose is guaranteed to result in a case of the 'worms'.



















Today however, we had some of our pancakes with Maple Syrup sent all the way from Pennsylvania USA by my dear friend Melissa.

Some traditions were meant to be broken!

Labels: Pancake Tuesday, Traditions

Posted by Miladysa at 4:12 PM 22 Comments

"If the earthly scales fell from our eyes, should we not perceive that all the regions of nature swarm with spirits..."

Lord Byron upon his visit to the Dell 1806.

My muse.

Labels: Dell, Fairies, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 9:33 PM 25 Comments

Sitting on the edge
Listening to you breathe by my side
Staring at the walls straight ahead
Trying to dull the pain that I find

Roll away the pain
Blow away this pain
Take me away

Drowning tears in silent slaughter
Feeling teeth gnaw deep inside
Washing my soul with salt water
Searching for the right place to hide

Roll away the pain
Blow away this pain
Take me away

Looking all around before asking
Overdosed with false affection
How low before everything’s sinking
Smothered with your medication

Roll away the pain
Blow away this pain
Take me away

Sensing the warmth
Lying on the bed before sleeping
Taking my place for the journey
Trying to stop my mind reeling

Roll away the pain
Blow away this pain
Take me away

Labels: Miladysa, Poem, Poetry

Posted by Miladysa at 2:48 PM 34 Comments