17 Patterns

Sometimes we hold a a little bit back for later, because classic design last a lifetime. STIRA’S HAND - EARTH, coming soon.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Poem Credit: NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY by Robert Frost