- waves upon the stony strand
- her lover's tears, all too soon
- parallel lines in perspective drawn
- the mist on the lake
- the call of the loon
- our heroine's innocence
- the tigers in bengal
- the bees in my garden
- the leaves in the fall
- academics who speak latin
- modesty and candour
- empty space on the bookshelf
- the basilisk, the salamander
- present mirth and present laughter
- idle time and solitude
- our dancing days, for better or worse
- the starried sky
- the weight of my purse
- the strangeness of the world
- the ice in my glass
- my nearsighted view and my spectacles (again)
- the time left to you
- my memory of your past
- the sun in the sky
- the ink in my pen
I have become a lost name once more, and keep the company of other rare and dwindling things; a shadow, a pin.
4 comments:
Come back, you bugger! We ruddy well miss you!
And we need you for Enjah's films!
Sad but lovely catalogue ...
All these things which may be slipping into the shadows exist vividly in the the bone-cave of my skull. I capture you there, you will o' the wisp, and even in your absence you set my mind alight.
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