To whom I owe the leaping delight

That quickens my senses in our wakingtime

And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime,

The breathing in unison

Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other

Who think the same thoughts without need of speech

And babble the same speech without need of meaning.

No peevish winter wind shall chill

No sullen tropic sun shall wither

The roses in the rose-garden which is ours and ours only

-TS Eliot

 

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About The Author

Michelle

Michelle Campano has been creatively working in Photography, Publishing and Television over the last 8 years. Travel Photography is one of her great passions.