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the shadows of the castles had blocked the view of the sun, flags were waving lazily to the wind. The horses which were bred for riding, were snorting impatiently because I had not brought them out for days. The roses that grew on the small puddles of pond water were as puny as small white toadstools that linger around trees in the forest. Old age I would say. The maiden Annalisa beautiful, youthful and praise worthy had not seen me for the hundredth time I stood outside the castle,I am king I am queen, I am the leader of the pride but I am nothing if she doesn’t see me. Casts of clouds race by,the blues reminds me of her eyes, I whirled my finger around a springy flower’s cord.I sighed as I looked. I could have all in the world and feel imperfection, if she doesn’t notice me. People can all tell me “Live for yourself.” But when is love ever not life to live for? Indeed. Love is beautiful like Anna Lisa. Anna lisa I can repeat and miss calling it if I stop. When is woman not love, when is her beauty not praise for cause of joy or admiration. Pressing on that I should tell her. Tell her what?
Tell her love is in her eyes I never had love. I would like a morsel taste.

Published on February 7, 2006 at 2:40 pm  Leave a Comment  

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