...the Word of God.
Oh yes. I wimper still oer Mum. Care thence
In silence as ne words assuage nor bail
My soul, except the LORD's in sheer betrayl.
Orange kisses treetops, yellow nestles hence
In sidewalk cracks and dips, vines paint a sense
Of scarlet through the copse no phlox detail
Now, and lo, I submit a sonnet they'll
Not choose, remembring Mum last year--and whence?
I swear, the Word of God my home as twere,
Replies as through a parched land we ensue.
Grey hours rain drips oer, deep blue heavns we were
So fond of seeing twixt yellow Maples--do
Not have my ticket anymore. In poor
Scuse I watch Pride and Prejdice. Where are you?
No less than a mad 6 hours of an excellent movie rendering of Jane Austen's classic Pride and Prejudice (well, I still think we could have skipped his bathing and swimming, like, was the ****** movie made for women?! ahem, obviously.) And I stupidly forget people will tell you to cheer up or that they "care" if I carelessly mention I still miss Mum too dearly, but I don't appreciate their "kindness" any better, kick me.