Wednesday, June 17, 2009


The violet cries in perfumed tears
at the nearness of his step,
delighting as she feels its weight
upon her upturned face.
Love's fragrance is a balm
which replaces pain with joy;
it is carried on the wind.
He breathes it in, remembering;
and, looking down, he sees the one
whom he has crushed
glimmering in the dust of dreams.
She seems to smile at him,
her shining eyes meet his.
With eager tenderness, he lifts his prize
and holds her to to his heart,
where she rests like a child.
Enfolded in his arms, she is
safe-- home at last.

I wonder..

just where that toy boat of yours is now.


A beautifully sad snippet of a soundtrack, strangely appropriate just now: