Is it wrong to long, to yearn, to ache… Knowing it is hopeless. Still… is it wrong to wish? Is it so wrong to dream?
Vais-je…? Suis-je…? Devrais-je…? Puis-je…? Sûrement, pas, demain, peut-être… Pas.
I won’t quit without a fight. But I don’t want to go on… Knock me down please, Life!
My old book of many yellowed pages dogeared, coffee stained pages missing title forgotten, Having written an inscription did she, those many years ago in her faded ink handwriting style
Watching the dim, flickering dancing light, she wondered… Should she blow on the flame? Should she let it burn her fingertips… Either way, she’d end up in the dark.
Crossing paths with her was unmistakably a crossroad in my life, turning left, or turning right, no escaping, was there my course being determined by- -her wayward smile….
Closing her eyes was not a slip into a restfull night… It was a shortcut to his long wanted, welcoming embrace. Morpheus’ arms? she giggled to herself, ‘So much for me’… ‘I need no God to look over my sleep! Just him….’