Lyl_Anjle's profile

Keep your tears; give him your mouth - a kiss to calm and charm and warm, to relive when he is far from home and hearth, and death is all around. Keep your fears; give him your faith. Unfurl your brow and school your face - a smile to feed his failing strength, a quiet touch, a fierce embrace. Keep your stance; let him go. Watch the warrior march away, watch till the last... then turn away. No time to mourn your house is bare; cast off your silk, bind up your hair; cast out your prayer acros...

I recall a living doll with eyes a jaded green in life a thing a blight in dreams a queen an angel fierce and bright at night she sings sotto-voice lest this self-solace bring the monster back indignant I remember this littleness not fondly, no but faithfully she sucks solitude like a thumb thin voice whispering vespers in the dark dragging hope like a tattered blanket behind her.

Webster and I grew a garden of metaphor watered with ten-dollar words from his weathered pages and sunned in abstract things I cried - 'Let there be meaning!' then yielded to the giggles whilst Webster skimmed for synonyms but found none... 'There are things,' (he solomnly intoned) 'for which I have no words.' so on the seventh stanza we rested.