I keep flashing back to the poems I read, memorized and loved in jr. high school that began my poetry journey. And as I was hunting down this gem, I found a sneaky little bitch who'd totally plagiarized it and signed her name to it. It should be a felony to rip off another's poems.
I'm reading a good summer tome, "The Little Paris Bookshop" by Nina George. "The main character, Monsieur Perdu, calls himself a literary apothecary. From his floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine, he prescribes novels for the hardships of life..." ~from the book jacket.
My dream life used to be living on a boat on any river, anywhere. But to do it and SELL BOOKS!!! Wow! The great thing I discovered is that several people actually do sell books from their barges on the Thames.
Love & Blessings,
Marion
"Who can tell the dancer from the dance?" ~Yeats
By Sydney King Russell
You loved me for a little,
Who could not love me long;
You gave me wings of gladness
And lent my spirit song.
You loved me for an hour
But only with your eyes;
Your lips I could not capture
By storm or by surprise.
Your mouth that I remember
With rush of sudden pain
As one remembers starlight
Or roses after rain . . .
Out of a world of laughter
Suddenly I am sad. . . .
Day and night it haunts me,
The kiss I never had.
You loved me for a little,
Who could not love me long;
You gave me wings of gladness
And lent my spirit song.
You loved me for an hour
But only with your eyes;
Your lips I could not capture
By storm or by surprise.
Your mouth that I remember
With rush of sudden pain
As one remembers starlight
Or roses after rain . . .
Out of a world of laughter
Suddenly I am sad. . . .
Day and night it haunts me,
The kiss I never had.
