RainShe is standing in the rain again.
I am standing in the rain again.
It's a surefire way to catch cold, everyone tells me. The best way to catch my death of pneumonia or croup or something; nobody can ever give me a straight answer as to the cause of my impending doom. But I know it will involve a high fever, and that's why I smile.
I know why she smiles, standing there in with her thin, white camisole plastered to her chest, chestnut hair painted black by the deluge. A proper winter downpour, guaranteed to set one sneezing just by looking at it. Freezing, just a few degrees from being snow.
As her lips take on a bluish cast against the pallor of her skin, they turn upward; the colder and wetter she becomes, the wider she grins.
I must be careful how long I stay out here. Too long, and the resultant fever will fry my brain. Not long enough, and I only get an elevation which will clear up in a few hours. It's a fine art, making yourself sick, and I'm beginning to consider m
Narnia NightsThe air is crisp.
No breeze stirs the red-gold leaves,
Still clinging to the branches of the over-arching giants.
Some of their smaller brethren stand bare;
Dark silhouette etchings against the blue-grey sky.
Below, in the world of men,
The cul-de-sac looks almost deserted
Bathed in the same oldyear light;
The houses loom like ancient castles,
Silent, dark, mysterious,
But for solitary lights-
The golden pools of lampposts
Or the outpouring of radiance
From unshuttered windows, which speaks
Of the families within.
Families who've turned inward,
As one does at this season,
To create together winter's strange and wonderful dreams.
I pull the gold chain with its red teardrop on the end,
And the small window dominates again,
No longer made dim
By the lamp's stronger, closer light.
All the best tales grow in year's end;
All the strangest occurrences bind lives.
In this moment, I know why.
Gazing at the shadow trees,
Feeling safe and sheltered in their embrace.
Tonight, I can dream of what I
Christmas On The NautilusTwas the night before Christmas, and our dear lady's crew
Were asleep, but the poor League had nothing to do
They'd got Quartermaine back and he was alright
(But with stories to tell that could turn your hair white)
The world wasn't in peril, all was safe and at peace
But quite frankly 'twas boring, to those folk at least
In their separate quarters the oddballs all lay
Awaiting the dawn of a bright Christmas Day
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter
Allan sprang from his bed to see what was the matter
Away to the portal he flew like a flash
Fumbled, but finally opened the latch
The moon on the waves set the water aglow
And made an iceberg of the pale ship below
Suddenly there was the strange sound again!
The great hunter looked up as once more came the strain
Of wood against metal; then, before his eyes
Some dark shape lit onto the deck so nearby!
Then Quartermaine ran, for he'd seen such before
Clearly some wretch wanted to sneak onboard!
Through the corridors now, as f
AhsneI am nothing.
It's quite soothing.
Just a tiny soulspark on a silver string,
What world will claim me;
What realm call me back?
Which good person wants
A little light
Upon a shining thread?
HeritageI am a daughter of the hills;
Of all that grows green in summer,
And strips itself for winter's sleep.
My home is the forest
And deep living things
Tell their ancient tales to those
Who will listen.
Some are born of desert,
Others of ocean.
To many, the bustling city,
Teeming with life,
Sings the sweetest song.
But, for myself, I would take
As my inheritance, home's verdant slopes
Over any human riches.