

RainIt pounds in the roof, the rain. In the dark of the night, All alone with candle, bright. Before its over, Ill be insane.Rain
Am I too old? My love for her is my bane. Has my body grown too cold? It pounds on the roof, the rain.
She made my world so bright. Her sweet memory beings pain. Her raven hair the color of night. Before its over, Ill be insane.
It pounds on the roof, insane. Without her Ill go cold. Without her love, Ill be old. Before its over, Ill be the rain.


BobShe spoke the last line of the old sonnet. She stirred herbs, which were boiling, on the stove. With a flash, the sweet smell of simmering Cloves and cinnamon was replaced by sulfur. From the pot came a scream, Then a small greenish hand. The imp crawled from the pot and dropped to the floor.Bob
-Mistress-, it hissed. You are, she asked. -Bob, mlady-.
Bob? Not the name expected for an imp, But then she really didnt think a couple Handfuls of herbs and 14 lines of iambic Pentameter would put an imp in her life.
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"When one begins to live by habit and by quotation, one has begun to stop living."---James A. Baldwin
Have a Wonderful Day Gavin
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Un clin dil nest pas un signe dun flirt seulement
Cest aussi un signe dune complicité entre deux personnes
Member of : [link] [link] [link]
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don't look don't talk don't cheat on me
also your work is very emotive and rich!
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nobody is perfect
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add me to myspace: [link]
watch my italian blog: [link]
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