When I run out of road all I need
are mended words to heal my soul
I cross well-worn tracks
through new-mown wheat
Where whispering stones stand calling
Continue reading at Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie
When I run out of road all I need
are mended words to heal my soul
I cross well-worn tracks
through new-mown wheat
Where whispering stones stand calling
Continue reading at Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie