wrappedallinwoe: To Night, Percy Bysshe Shelley "Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon— Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, belovèd Night— Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!“
slightmood: not to bring attention to a sensitive topic but I want to enjoy a nice bike ride with a little cat sitting in the front basket
