- Vanessa Rhodes
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- Added 27 Apr 2007
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Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory, Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. -Percy Bysshe Shelley-
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Patty Day 30 Apr 2007
Beautifully done. Vanessa!!!!Chris Williams 29 Apr 2007
great image love the tonestephanie atlee 29 Apr 2007
Very nice workAnonymous Guest 28 Apr 2007
Painfully Beautiful...Steve Farr 28 Apr 2007
Wonderful image and words, Vanessa! ^_^