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Post by max on Feb 23, 2010 14:44:18 GMT 10
Roses G 147 Joren 1/E Reflections and David Bowie from the completely wrong era and decade. ____________________________
He was born on a Thursday, and in one of the chambers of his heart there is his mother, singing him to sleep with the old ditty. Thursday’s child has far to go…and so do you, my dear pretty one, her hands stroking his hair off his forehead, her kiss soft and smelling of roses on his forehead. It isn’t until he sees Keladry at a party, looking ill at ease in her skin – rather, the deep blue silk gown she wears with a surcoat of the same colour – and happens to pass her that he realises the full weight of the words he has heard (and thought he had understood) all his life. Gone from her is the smell of sweet young girl (though twenty is not so old), replaced by old roses. A fragrance anyone would want to drown in. And he is no exception.
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Post by journeycat on Feb 23, 2010 15:29:44 GMT 10
Oh, this is poetic and beautiful. I love the old ditty you put in there - it was so wistful.
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Post by max on Feb 23, 2010 15:33:00 GMT 10
Thank you
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Bec
Queen's Rider
Most likely procrastinating
Posts: 692
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Post by Bec on Feb 23, 2010 15:41:29 GMT 10
This is beautiful!
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