7,670 plays ♫
The Kiss by Gustav Klimt (detail), oil and gold leaf on canvas, 1907–1908
What in the world are we waiting for—
building glowing cities ‘long the shore,
where the wind batters in,
baiting my kin like a matador?
So much value, placed upon
what lies just beyond our plans:
waving my handkerchief,
running along, till the end of the sand.
Long-life, speak your name.
So tired of the guessing game.
But, something is moving,
brace and aim.
Ragu Bolognese via Married in Marrickville