Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
It was one of those chilly and empty afternoons in early winter, when the daylight is silver rather than gold and pewter rather than silver.
I cannot bear it said the pewter soldier. I have shed pewter tears It is too melancholy Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and legs It would at least be a change. I cannot bear it longer Now, I know what it is to have a visit from one's old thoughts, with what they may bring with them I have had a visit from mine, and you may be sure it is no pleasant thing in the end I was at last about to jump down from the drawers.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories