dear damon
Happy Valentine's 2005
Madonna of the Evening Flowers
All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired.
I call: “Where are you?”
But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely:
Where are you?
I go about searching.
Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.
You tell me that the peonies need spraying,
That the columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur,
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud, sweet Te Deums of the Canterbury bells.
- Amy Lowell
pensively yours,
frances
On the bedside table this month:
Strawberry Sparkling Water
On the turntable this month:
Muse: Absolution
KNOCK, KNOCK. WHO'S THERE?
Enter the dragon...Say What?!
Name that tune!
Educate Me!
BRITGIRL's gig report
Ravenous for "Ravenous?"
The archives c'est arrive'!
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