dear delilah








Fathers, be good to your daughters; daughters will love like you do.

you are the strength and the weight of her world

poetry

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Stream her with roses and daisies, dear mother,
let all that she speak be all that that she hears.
For no higher, no higher let her forehead doth grow;
and so dote, dote my mother, my mother so dear
and let her run free with a conscience so clear


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Wednesday, 23 May 2007
hurr

I seem to have lost myself in solitude. Let the mice find me, piece by piece. At least my fingers were recovered first, or I wouln't be able to type this blogpost in the early morning.

Rather, I wish I (or what is still here) could just crawl into my covers and wait for the eternal term.






Don't worry. I'm scaring myself too.

"Don't Worry." I think I use it too much.

he told me that I've done alright
and kissed me till the morning light