Scarlatti

Stopped by your house On my way to school Looked in your window Hoping to see you I heard the train a-tooting And the wheels against the track I can almost hear the teacher screaming "You're late and sneaking from the back." And everyone would laugh and smirk And I'd sit behind alone But I don't really mind at all I got to see you smile And you're everything and anything and all I would ever need. Sat in detention Watching the minutes pass Yawning as every second ticked my life away Stared out the door and I saw you walk by And suddenly it felt like all the hours had begun to fly Before I knew it From the time you turned t

I stand at the window once more, watching you go about your daily life. Placing hand on the clear barrier that separates you from me, I feel an icy coolness, such a contrast to the strange roiling pulses in my veins. I remember, when that frozen feeling did not exist, only the warmth of your hand. Longing, I think that's what they call it, that bitter feeling whenever I look at you, this window… flawless glass, it's so clear and yet you don't seem to see me. I can only stand, palm pressed against frigid cold, and watch. I watch the rain pelt upon that frosty glass, watching my breath turn to mist upon that smooth plane. You're on the other s

she stands as the water laps slowly at her feet, staring out to where the blue grows darker and then lighter and lighter and becomes air as light as air. the sand is hard beneath her toes, but it moves when she does. she stands still as the water hits her softly, touching her legs cold but unnoticed strong, but not that strong. she stares straight ahead waiting. feeling her hair blow behind her in the wind, dancing around her ears and away from her neck like the sail of her ship as she stands at the dock waiting. she remembers when the sky was dark, and the sun was hiding and he held her hand in the dark, as

She asked if I was an angel. I gazed down into those Beautiful eyes and with A stopping of breath Assured her I was. As I held her there, I folded invisible wings Around her to hold her, Keep her safe Caressed those tiny Fingers that had Worn my life around them, Built the gardens that kept me content... "Are you my angel?" She asked again with a smile. I prayed to all that was holy Again, I agreed. Her eyes closed. Her beauty broke me all over again. And with the last sweet breath on my cheek, I fell from Heaven Into Hell.

He had certainly proved himself before, so she prayed for a replay. Not believing was unsuitable. And it wasn’t like she asked for anything big, just a small sign. Surprise was written all over her face when she saw his response. She smiled wryly and stared at the sky, then found a pebble nearby and flung it at a cloud while shouting, ”You have a lousy sense of humor, God”. Walking home she was as near content as one can be when not getting anything one's way. She sighed, not too heavily, and accepted it. Lousy miracles are still miracles.

See the White Stag standing proud there? Stock-still in sunlit clearing, Heavy antlered head turns on hearing. Mount’s tread, Fierce fixing you with pink-eyed stare. Come, give chase, the hunt is on. A charge, a leap, the stag fast flees, Horn calls out sharply for chase, Spring forth with prompt lurch to match prey's pace, Now search, For flicker of white seen through trees. Come, give chase, the hunt is on, We will hold a feast anon. Pause a moment, direction lost, When barking erupts eastward, All hearing the sounds are drawn toward, White Hounds, Whose vigour grows at the prey’s cost. Come, give chase, the hunt