RemoteUser
Posts: 2854
Joined: 5/10/2011 Status: offline
|
Romantic transcendentalism (not so disparate): In speckled shade of ancient towers wound a weathered foot-hewn trail, the edges painted bright with flowers soft and scented, blooming frail. A lazy breeze was dancing lightly round the sturdy dandled limbs, to rattle russet leaves so slightly words were murmured, forest hymns. I tarried but I could not linger under trees and over stones; for dulcet daydreams drew me to her where she waited, at our home. I ventured then from wood to mountain covered by the velvet night; and swiftly journeyed to my woman whom I cradled, warm and tight.
_____________________________
There is nothing worse than being right. Instead of being right, then, try to be open. It is more difficult, and more rewarding.
|