doesn't look too bad on me
when i see the reflection
of it
in your eyes.

You are allowed to guffaw at me, considering what came before this.


Snow.  Likeas if what, eh? mists' fragile veil
Haunts gathring darkness as white caps from hence
That thought of April in the wings, suspense
Put back to sleep with frozen kisses' scale
Of niceness was't?  Rain's tripping through t'avail
Culled naked lawns in yellowed Death, which thence
Are tucked 'neath that chill coverlid, and whence
Straps on its boots 'gainst crunching forth, hope pale?
Nah.  It is Janry still, and violets' tour
Shall not be guaranteed until the dew
Once more rests silver on green carpets fer
Soft light and warmer hours lost under blue
Skies nary iciness skulks in as twere.
Tonight we'll shiver, glad the furnace knew.


Talk about the landscape changing when your back was turned as it were, as if the world itself were your naughty child, was that?

"...what is seen, but what is UNseen, for what is unseen is eternal."


Twas MY lake once as twere, which now in pale
Morn's fragile Sunday calm is placid hence
In slate-grey silence wandring voices fence,
But don't as frore winds own this Janry scale
Of lost joys I view from afar in sheer betrayl,
The naked trees' black silhouettes as thence
Sae gaunt or rattling bony fingers, whence
Is't that the only call I catch--winds' hail?
Snow melted by rain,  how th'expanse lies fer
Blue heavns' half clouded eye so dead, yet to
My soul's perception, 'ginning now to stir
With hope, though March is but a dream.  We knew
So many things, once, and the lake as twere--
Its bosom like a mirror--shows 'gain what'd woo.


You know?

Here, just listen to this:  []  


Lo, coffee in wee tazos as from thence
How sparrows gaily call is't? to avail
Dawn's warming light which wears Spring in betrayl
'Spite frigid airs, me chattring to Dad hence
About when buds will 'gin to peer fr'intents
Upon the distant tree; and whiles I hail
Such notions, he sez Winter's in detail
Too young yet, noting he's no hopes for sense.
I was not happy, was I?  Just in tour
Seeing how that April haunts the waking view,
Likeas October did one June as twere.
Snow melted by the brief thaw's rain, these blue
Skies oddly wear an eye akin in poor
'Scuse to late March.  And really, what is new?


Well?  Isn't music a hearty change and too refreshing, c'mon, isn't it though?

January's thaw was ever wont to deceive even the lacklustre souls with visions of sugarplums was that?


How blue dusk fringes that wee chance t'avail
Myself of scribbling...ere we dine.  Spring hence,
Despite frore winds' most cruel breath, tiptoes thence
Within these longer hours of light.  Though frail
Perhaps in guise, yet O! in keen betrayl
Nor with aught joy, my very soul can sense
Its eye as if upon these wastes, til whence
Is only whether next month shall wax pale.
Yes, will ole Febry yield to April fer
All that?  I feel it in my bones anew,
Half shivring to acknowledge what, as't stir?
Ah, wherefore do I shrink from May, and rue
The hope of daffodils and violets, poor
As all my ecstasies therein?  Who knew?


Shall we say it's fun racing the clock when you've only 10 minutes?

[My beloved Mum died 2 years ago today.]


This wan light draws up shadows for pretense,
Their fragile shapes like ghosts in sheer betrayl
Upon dry lanes bleached ere for safety, pale
Blue skies with half an eye, winds piercing thence
Nor but too bitter as they scour from hence
The frore and stubbled fields none wander; frail
And icy clouds with grey battalions hail
Is't who'd observe in passing?, like's good sense.
I cherish naked trees' black forms in tour,
Now clustered by the graveyard, tombstones to
Effect 'non dotting hallowed ground is't? poor
As our fond notions, dim hours' greyer cue
Sae perfect as Death owns that space as twere,
While leering at souls through these minutes too.


NOTE: L's 7-8, coming down the slope to the intersection and sitting at the light, I don't know why those fluffy grey clouds against the icier white in blue skies struck me suddenly as a vision of enemy aircraft coming in for a raid over the masses of houses sprawling across from left to right.

Well, and that doesn't even account for having been buried with Mum's remains.  


Rain...lo, the ditches were quite full cuz thence
All could but hardly drive, and in betrayl
Slid off the roads since ice was that detail
Upon all lanes, police too, for intents
Cast in such straits, ah we discussed it hence
To put my visions of that party's bail
Thus on its ear like plans are fragile, they'll
Assure me, "you might hafta find defense."
Therefore I pray, as she sends out in tour
Reminders "It's tomorrow!--" (yes, I knew)
And "...don't forget!" like Janry is not poor
For such things here in Lincoln's Land.  We do
So much, yet for what cause?  To sweetly stir
Souls is't?  Friends:  I'd forgotten joys' thin crew.


L5-8 I swear, men love to scare their women, loving brothers no exception, probably cuz they do love their sister...and the LORD delivered us, mercifully.
Marco Benitez Jan 12

They are flat surfaces that show your surroundings in their own dimension.

They are windows, made with the most perfect glass, in which you can take a look at what everyone sees when they see you.

They will never show you lies, they will just show your reality from their point of view.

You can always trust them.

Such a fine glass does not deserve your hate when it shows your reflection, for it is on your how they view your reality, and it is on you how you view your reflection.

Either way, they are just showing you their opinion.

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