| Location | Boston |
| Age | 23 years |
| Date of Birth | 4/1984 |
| Date of Death | 10/2007 |
| Visitors | 2,178 since 29/12/2007 |
| Creator |
Stuart daniel johnson he died 31oct 2007 he was 23, he would of been 24 on the 29 april
He was muched loved, he leaves his mum sharon, dad steve and his sister louise.
The Faery Forest : )
The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.
Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro' the dew-fall
The cold white blossoms wept.
Sara Teasdale
THERE is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
Walter De La Mare
Time, never ending, everlasting
takes its toll on all.
And as each moment passes
a teardropp starts to fall.
History passes and plays its part.
How did it end?
How did it start?
With people
laughing, crying
living, dying
and then repeating again.
With people
never learning
always yearning
to become free men.
But a teardropp on the face of time
stains the face it's on.
And never does it really dry
for it's never really gone.
Edwina Reizer
: )
I am a simple girl ♥
I live in a Kaleidoscope World,
One by one the seasons turn,
Rain falls, Fire burns,
I try to hold on but things change,
Shapes and colors rearrange,
If we stayed still we'd never grow,
Like a tulip trapped in the snow,
The wheel of life is sometimes kind,
We never forget what we leave behind,
Dreams are timeless works of art,
All dreaming is painted by the heart,
My Kaleidoscope World spins around,
It whispers in color but makes no sound ♥
~Colleen Anne Carroll
♥
O the days gone by! O the days gone by!
The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye;
The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail
As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky,
And my happy heart brimmed over in the days gone by.
In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped
By the honey-suckle’s tangles where the water-lilies dipped,
And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along the brink
Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink,
And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant’s wayward cry
And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by.
O the days gone by! O the days gone by!
The music of the laughing lip, the luster of the eye;
The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin’s magic ring
The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything,
When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh,
In the golden olden glory of the days gone by.
James Whitcomb Riley
♥
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
William Butler Yeats
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There have been 250 candles lit for Stuart.
