heart set on fire

To the woods and back,

Vibrant yellow and pale gold. Bright orange and flaming red. A winding road and a dreamy me. Quaint little villages, wide open green fields, dotted with wiry sheep. Broken wooden stiles, and cosy brick houses, with hard- working chimneys. A steady breeze, a light drizzle and the smell of wet bark. Falling leaves and crumpled dreams. This autumn set my heart on fire.

DREAMS

That’s why they are called dreams

Because they are not always born to live

They live their entire life in that single moment

When someone dared to ‘dream’