About the Coy in Hues Standard

She is the Bluest of roses and truthful to me. The Vivre to my Axel  of guttural Joie. She’s like the sound-wave  that caresses thought, Fills me with melodies and reminds me of dreams forgot. She’s like the trust I place in composer to play the hand instead of fold her. Like a letter I… Continue reading About the Coy in Hues Standard