CategoryDan Andersson

I’m waiting by my log-fire while the hours gently wander, while the stars all are roaming and nights come and go. I’m waiting for a woman who comes from far yonder – the dearest one, the dearest one with blue eyes aglow. I thought of a roaming and snow-covered flower and dreamt of a teasing laugh trembling and slight, Imagined my dearest came here to my bower through the forest, over moorland one...