Monday, June 28, 2010

Homecoming, Pt. 2

There will be a third part to this, rather than just two installments. It's turning out to be longer than I intended, so I'm sorry if it rambles. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

“You return to me an Earl. I find it nearly too good to be true.”

He nodded. “And yet it is so. From Black Knight, to Steward, to Baron. Now to an Earl. Who could have foreseen such a path for Sir Guy of Gisborne…once the great villain of Nottingham?”

Cassia paused, turning to him. She clasped his hand in both her own, her expression becoming serious, almost stern. It was a look he knew well…one that she used when she was utterly convinced on a matter, and her mind would not be changed. Even after all of their years together, that look never ceased to enchant him.

“You have earned your title, Guy, through adversity and toil. My brother was of some influence when the King appointed you a barony, but the appointment of an Earldom is your own accomplishment.” She kissed his hand, pressing her cheek to it. She sighed, a sound of love and admiration. “I find such honor in sharing your name…and in rising with you. To think of me, born a commoner. Now a Countess. It is overwhelming.”

He withdrew his hand, and let his arm slip around her shoulders. He drew her against his side as they moved from the orchard to the garden path, nearing the manor.

“When I toiled for Briwere in Nottingham, my ambitions were my own. I pursued wealth and power to better only myself. I was admittedly selfish. But now, my rise in status benefits those that are dear to me…and I would have it no other way.”

Both he and Cassia had been thrilled upon learning of his elevation in status, and they had planned to travel to court together. But when William had fallen ill less than a week before they were to depart, she had remained behind to help care for him. He sighed as he thought of his presentation before the noblity.

“My only regret is that you could not be beside me when they bestowed my title. Without your eyes to bear witness, it seemed an empty moment.”

He cast his glance downward, unable to help the touch of sadness that the memory brought. Her absence at court had been a difficult thing to cope with. And yet, even as he thought of those bitter days, he knew what she would do about his current frame of mind. Hope and faith had always been her strongest weapons, and she drew them with a sure hand. She kissed him, pressing her cheek to his.

“Do not dwell on the melancholy, my love. We are together again, and that is what matters.”

He sighed, but was smiling now…unable to remain somber when she was determined to be otherwise. To please her, he searched his mind for an agreeable subject, and one came to him almost in an instant.

“I have brought gifts from my journey.”

She drew back in his arms, looking up at him with a discerning smile. “I might have known you would do so. As I recall, when last you and I traveled to court, we returned home bearing many treasures.”

His grin was playful. “Aye, and this occasion is much the same. Save for one difference. My time at court has afforded me a particular gift that is worth more than even gold.” Taking her hand, he led her to a bench. Her eyes were curious as he took a purse from his belt. Opening it, he removed a small jar, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“This was procured from a fellow knight…a soldier of Acre. Perrault was his name. His wife nearly succumbed to the ague last spring. But she eventually recovered, owing a partial debt of gratitude to the maker of this.”

Cassia examined the jar made of clay, a seemingly mundane little object. Removing the lid, she held it to her nose…and yanked her head back at the stench.

“Merciful heavens, what a scent!” She held it away for a moment…before cautiously examining it again. “What is it?” She looked upon the whitish, opaque paste.

“Camphor, it is called.” His voice became low. He glanced about, as if searching for those who might be listening. “It is a Saracen formula.”

Her eyes widened a little. One did not find favor in any matter regarding a Saracen. Their knowledge was not to be sought, and they were not to be spoken of except with the deepest antipathy. The tone of her voice softened, becoming quite solemn.

“Saracens. A sensitive subject to speak of, particularly at court. Your aquaintence…this Duke of LaSalle. For what reason did he risk the scrutiny of his peers? What prompted such generosity?”

“A simple matter, really. His steed had gone lame during a hunt, and I assisted him. We came to be quite civil afterwards, and through some conversation we learned of one another’s families…and their shared concerns.”

“But one favor must be returned for another. What favor or request was granted in exchange for such a gift as this?”

He shook his head. “None that was writ in stone. He has three sons, the youngest being just Evelyn’s age. We spoke on several subjects, one being of possible marital arrangements. But such a matter is not one on which I’m inclined to converse. We agreed to discuss it at length in the future, should he chose to accept my invitation of hospitality.”

She continued to examine the jar, gliding her finger around the rim. In her eyes he could see the turmoil…torn between fear of the unknown and the possibility of hope. She would do anything, just as he would, to keep their son from his suffering. But she was fearful. What if it failed to work? What if it caused his condition to grow worse? All were genuine concerns…ones that he himself had struggled with.

Then he thought of The Duke. When Perrault had spoken of his wife, how her symptoms had been eased because of the camphor, such a light of elation had shined in his eyes. He had great confidence in the medicine’s power, despite its origins. Guy recalled his words, spoken with fervor…

If there is such power to be found in this, surely it is God’s doing, Gisborne. Wisdom is not an instrument of evil, as the church would have us believe. We have been blessed with the gift of knowledge, and if that knowledge should better the life that God has given me and mine, then so be it…

Over the years, Guy had learned to count his many blessings. His belief had grown deeper, his devotion stronger with each happiness that was bestowed upon him. Heaven had smiled on him and the ones he loved…and he saw no reason why it should change now.

Perrault kept his faith, he thought, And was rewarded for it. So too, then, will I trust in a higher power.

Taking the jar from her, he capped it and returned it to his purse. Reaching out, clasping her hands in his, he rose to his feet with her. He placed a soft kiss on her temple. She leaned on him, twining her arm with his, and they walked to the house together.


That evening, the great hall was filled with laughter and the noises of a great feast, all in celebration of the master’s return. Evelyn, permitted attendance by her father, sat quietly beside her mother. The allowance of a child at the main table was a great privilege, and she was aware of it. So she sat, calmly and properly, eating her meal as a young lady should.

Guy’s eye occasionally looked to her, and he could not help but smile. She was doing all that she knew how in order to be good…cleaning her knife on her trencher and not the tablecloth, wiping her cup with her napkin after each sip. But he could see that she was restless, judging from her occasional little sigh of impatience, and the periodic nibbling of her bottom lip. Her mind was overwhelmed with anticipation at the possibility of a gift, though she dared not inquire of it directly, for fear of having it rescinded. She had been so very good, despite the threat of her childish impulses, and he decided that it would be cruel to delay her further. He turned to one of Cassia’s ladies, who stood nearby.

“Take Lady Evelyn to the solar. Wait with her there until we come up.”

The maiden curtseyed, coming forward. Cassia leaned down and kissed her daughter’s cheek. As Evelyn passed her father’s chair, she smiled at him…her eyes glittering with excitement. He smiled back at her. And with a gesture of his head, he sent her on her way.


Evelyn knelt before a cushioned stool, her shoulders hunched in anticipation as a footman brought in a carved wooden box. As it was placed on the stool, she was instructed to close her eyes, which she did…while trembling with giddiness. The lid was removed, and the servant lifted up the fluffy white creature from within. When it meowed, Evelyn opened her eyes…and could not contain herself. She clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh Papa!” She reached out and quickly gathered the kitten to herself, burying her nose in its warm fur.

Guy looked on with pride, delighted in making his youngest child happy. Standing beside him, Cassia smiled at seeing Evelyn’s joy.

“You shall have to think of a proper name,” she said.

Evelyn’s reply was instant. “He will be called Sir Guy.” She turned to both of her parents, particularly to her father, who was looking on with amusement. “Papa, and Mama, may I keep him in my room? Please?”

With a quizzical expression, and a little smirk, Cassia looked at Guy. He, in turn, looked back at Evelyn. Her expression was so eager, so earnest…her feelings born not of selfish pleasure, but of true gratitude for his gift, that he could not resist giving in to her request.

“I do not see the harm in it.”

She flung her free arm around his leg, clinging tight to him. He smiled as she broke into an excited rattling of French, proclaiming him the greatest father in all the world.

“Oh Papa ! Merci, merci! Vous êtes le meilleur père dans tout le monde!”

All of their children had a duality of language, being born in a French land but parented by an English mother and father. Guy encouraged them to remain true to their English roots by making it their first language, but there were times when their French habits appeared spontaneously. For Evelyn, it seemed to be when she was very happy and excited, as she was now. He reached down to give her an affectionate pat on the head.

“It is late. You had best go to bed now. I shall be there shortly to speak to your brother and sister. And if they should make commotion over your gift, you are permitted to remind them of the error of their ways.”

She giggled, hurrying off with her new pet secured in her embrace. Guy turned to his wife, who wrapped her arms around his middle.

“You are the most generous of men. She shall be in her glory for some time to come.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. He sighed, a sound of both pleasure and weariness. He’d fulfilled a fatherly duty, and had found delight in it. But there was much more to be done before he could allow head to be put to pillow.

“I must see the house secured for the night.”

Concern came to her eyes. “Emile has managed well enough in your absence. Allow him to do so for one night more. You should find sleep. Your countenance is marked with fatigue.”

His reply was firm. “My Steward shall be rewarded for his faithful duty. But I am home, and I shall be the master once again.” He kissed her hand. And she nodded, acquiescing.

“Do as you must, then. I will bid goodnight to Owen and Thea. And then I shall sit with William.”

He shook his head. “You have spent too many a night alone at his side, fraught with concern. I will see you no longer so burdened. I have endured weariness before, and shall do so again. My place is beside you and our son.”

He half-expected her to argue with him. But instead she smiled, and he sensed that she was relieved, knowing that he would keep vigil with her. Her duty as a mother was to bear the burden of worry, but his duty was to protect those he loved, and if it meant sharing the weight of concern, then he would do it.


Entering the room of his daughters, Guy looked from one side of the room to another. To his right, Thea was sitting on a stool while Claudia tended to her. Her hands were folded in her lap, her head down as her hair was brushed and braided for the night. She kept her eyes lowered, her unhappiness quite evident. Seeing him, the nurse came to attention, but he gestured her back to her work…and turned to the other side of the room.

Evelyn was fully prepared for bed…her hair braided, her nightcap on. But she was hardly quiet and still, as she should have been. She lay on her stomach, dangling a ribbon over her kitten. She was giggling as it swiped and pounced, and wordlessly he went over, not pleased with having to disrupt the happy scene, but knowing he must. Taking the kitten away for a moment, he motioned for Claudia, who had finished tending Thea. When she’d situated Evelyn under the covers, he handed the cat over to her.

“Find a basket for the beast and place it nearby.”

As she curtseyed and left, he looked down at Evelyn, who was grinning up at him. He leaned down to give her a peck on the forehead. Then, he turned to the other occupant of the room. Coming to her bedside, he looked down at her. Her fingers clenched the rim of her coverlet, pulling it to her chin. Sheepishly, she stared up at him.

“Are you still angry with me?”

Keeping his composure was very difficult when confronted with those bright blue eyes of hers…eyes that pleaded for his forgiveness and the assurance of his affection. But it was a father’s duty to impose discipline, and he kept his expression grim.

“I am very disappointed.”

Her bottom lip protruded. Her tone grew quite soft. “I am sorry.”

It was near impossible to remain angry when she looked at him in that way. She was a Gisborne in every sense of the word…dark in her features, and quite often in her temperament. But no matter what offense she committed, he found it hard to be cross with her for any great length of time. She was, and always would be, his darling. Still, it was wrong for a father to be too soft, and even though the corner of his mouth took a slight upward turn, he kept his tone cool.

“You have my forgiveness.” Leaning down, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “But now you must say your prayers and seek absolution from the Almighty. Do not forget that God visits during the night. He judges more harshly than I, and he does not look kindly upon such wickedness.”

She nodded, her expression becoming quite serious. As she folded her hands and whispered in prayer, he moved to adjoining room. In the bedchamber that his son’s shared, Owen was lying awake, his eyes on the ceiling. His arms were folded across his chest. When Guy sat beside him, their gazes met, and Owen’s eyes became wide with stubborn determination.

“I am not a beast,” he said.

Where William was kindly, with the manners of a young gentleman, Owen was very much a rouge. He preferred action, not words nor thought. Someday, when he wielded a sword and shield, his aggressiveness would serve him well. But for now, he was only a boy…and he needed to learn his lesson.

“Your behavior seems to suggest that you are, indeed, a beastly lad. ‘Tis not the behavior of a future knight. Remember that which is written in the code of chivalry. ‘Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them.’ Women are counted among the weak, and must not only be defended, but respected.”

The reply was quick, for Owen’s mind was razor sharp.

“But I must not recoil before my enemy.”

He knew most of his chivalrous codes already, even at his tender age. Guy’s heart swelled with fatherly satisfaction, for his younger son had shown an early aptitude in memorization and quick thinking. But his pride did not deter him from the subject at hand.

“Your enemy she is not. She is your sister…your blood relation. That is a thing most sacred, and you shall honor it. Do you understand?”

Owen sighed, but reluctantly he nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

“Very well, then.” Guy reached out, giving him a gentle pat on the head. “Speak your prayers and sleep well.” He rose to his feet, moving to the door. As he went, he heard a small stubborn voice behind him…

“I am not a beast.”

He closed the door behind him. And he allowed himself, at last, to smile. According to the rules of society, it was indecent for a man to be emotionally devoted to his children. He was expected to be harsh, and he was not supposed to find delight in some of the things they did. But in truth, he loved and adored his children in every way. For the sake of appearances, he was quite good at hiding his real feelings. But at times, he envied the freedom that his wife enjoyed in being a mother. She was permitted to interact more intimately than he was. She played games with them, running foot races or spinning about the maypole. As a small boy, William had delighted in being held by the hands while his mother swung him about. Guy had always watched from afar, wishing he could rush in and join in their merriment.

In a different time and place, it might have been possible. But these were dark times, and there was little use for soft feelings. The leader of the family had to be dominant and strong. And so he was. Only in quiet moments…or in the darkness, when no one could see…did he allow himself to express what a joy he found in his children.


Sunday, June 27, 2010

An Update on my "Tempest" Giveaway...

Hello Everyone!

Due to the huge response to the giveaway, I'm adding two more free books to the pile, so there will now be 4 books in total to be given away. Thanks to those who have entered so far.

Remember, the contest ends July 6th, so there's still time to get in on the drawing.

My best to everyone!

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

A Guy of Gisborne Giveaway!

Hello, everyone! For those who are interested, I've set up a contest to give away two free copies of "The Tempest." Entering the contest is easy. Just leave your email address in a post. Each name will be assigned a number, which will then be chosen by a random number generator. Winners will be announced July 6th.

If you prefer to keep your email info private, send me a message at and I'll add you to the contest list.
Good luck to all!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

A Dip in The Pool

It's so hot in Kentucky, even the cows want to take a swim.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Homecoming, Pt. 1

Hello everyone! I'm posting the new novel that I'm working on. This post is the first of two installments, which will then lead into the re-written version of "Rebel Mine"...a sequel to my Guy of Gisborne story, "The Tempest."

It's just a little something that was in my head, and it got me back on track with my writing, so hopefully there will be much more to come in the following months. We'll see what happens! I hope you enjoy it.

Marseilles, France
May, 1203

The smell of the sea.

It was a pungent but invigorating scent…one that fired his nerves with anticipation. Leaning out of the carriage window, Sir Guy inhaled the ocean breeze deep into his lungs.

Home, he thought. I am home.

With eagerness he watched as they passed the village. Only a few miles more, and his journey from court would at last be done. A squire had ridden ahead to announce the arrival. All of the household would be assembled in greeting, and he could hardly wait to be there. He smiled to himself, impatient but joyful…until the carriage began to slow. When it stopped altogether, he called out in confusion…almost in anger.

“Why have we stopped?”

His driver answered. “A traveler beckons, my lord.”

A traveler? he thought. What nonsense is this? For a moment, he feared a disguised bandit might be upon them. It was not unheard of for thieves to act as beggars in need, only to steal all that a traveler possessed. Gripping the handle of his dagger, he peered out the window with a cautious eye…and his wary frown turned to a smile. This was no beggar. No thief. It was a dark-haired little figure, coming down the road as fast as she could. A moment later she leapt into the carriage, throwing her little arms around his neck. She squealed with joy.

“Papa, I missed you so!”

He winced at the force of her hold, which was strong for a girl of five. But his joy at seeing her, at feeling her loving enthusiasm, eclipsed the small discomfort.

“Evelyn Elizabeth Gisborne, what have you been doing during my absence? And what mischief is this, coming to meet me? You should be waiting for me at home, properly assembled with the rest of the household.”

Her blue eyes lowered, her expression sheepish. “I am sorry, Papa. I lost my patience.”

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “You are forgiven. Let us go home together.” He tapped the roof to signal the driver. As they moved on, Evelyn chattered away, having all manner of things to tell him about, particularly her siblings. But in her clever way, she inquired first, rather than making a bold report.

“Do you wish to know what they’ve been doing?”

He could not help but be amused. Though she was very young, she was aware that he disapproved of gossip, even the innocent telling that went on among youngsters. But being a child, she found it difficult to hold her tongue. He nodded, giving her silent permission to speak.

“Thea and Owen have quarreled all the time. Mama has punished them, but they soon begin again.”

“What of William? Is he ailing still?”

“He is much better, Papa.”

“And your mother…how does she fare?”

“She has been very sad. She misses you terribly.”

He sighed, but smiled. “Well we shall remedy that soon enough.”

At last they came upon the drive. Seeing it, Guy had the urge to mimic his daughter…to go rushing ahead without thought for appearances. But as the lord of the manor, he knew he needed to maintain an air of control. Though it was a difficult role to play, he managed to do it, remaining in his seat until the carriage slowed. When at last it came to a stop, he could be still no longer. Stepping out, reaching in to lift Evelyn, he carried her with him as he came forward to greet everyone. But before he could speak a word, eight-year old Thea came rushing forward. As she marched with an angry stride, her black curls bounced. Her bottom lip protruded in a furious pout.

“Papa! Owen is an awful beast! He knocked me down and muckied my dress!”

Following behind her was her younger brother, six-years old, who was in turn followed by Claudia, their nurse. Guy held up his hand to her, allowing his youngest son to speak. Owen’s dark eyes were narrowed, his brow crinkling in defiance. “She tells lies, Papa! I am no beast!”

“You are so!”

Guy made his presence and his displeasure known. “Silence, the both of you! I return from a tedious journey to find this? Naughty, disobedient children who should know better. You shame me.”

Thea attempted to explain herself. “But Papa…”

“Do not speak. Either of you. Since you behave so poorly, you will have no supper.” He turned to their nurse. “Claudia, take them to their rooms and confine them there for the remainder of the night.”

Thea began to cry. Owen spilled no tears, though his lip trembled as he and his sister were led away. Guy looked around, searching for the face he most wanted to see. He turned to his housekeeper.

“Where is my lady?”

“She has gone walking, my lord. I will have a lad fetch her straight away.”

Guy shook his head. “No, I will find her. You may all return to your duties. See my belongings home.”

She curtseyed, leading the rest of the staff back to their routines. Guy turned his attention to Evelyn. She looked away sheepishly, as if expecting to be punished as her siblings has been. But his expression softened. His voice became tender once again.

“Let us go and see William, shall we?”

She turned to look at him, perking up. She smiled, nodding, and together they ventured inside.


Looking upon his eldest son, Guy saw himself. The same dark hair, grey eyes, and sharp features. And yet the version before him was, in many ways, a great improvement of the original. William was vastly better in temperament, possessing a nature of goodness and charm. Even at the age of eight, he was not inclined to be petty and selfish as so many children were. It pleased his mother very much that he was so mild-mannered, for in being so, he was not suited to a warrior’s path in life. And if Cassia was pleased, so then was Guy. Placing Evelyn at the doorway, where she obediently stood in observation, he came to stand beside William’s bed. The nurse turned to him with a curtsey. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the boy’s head, speaking to the nurse but not taking his eyes off of his son.

“How does he fare?”

“Tolerable, my lord. He will recover soon enough. His cough is not so harsh as it has been, and his manner of sleeping has been more peaceful of late.”

Guy nodded. “Then I shall leave him in peace. When he wakes, inform him of my return, and that I shall come to him again.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Walking to the door, he looked down at Evelyn. “Off with you, child. I will go in search of your mother. And perhaps when I return, we shall see if I’ve brought you anything from my travels.”

She beamed with expectation, hurrying away as he’d told her to. Guy turned towards the stairs, eager to find his beloved wife.


Reflecting on his time spent at court, he recalled hearing the whispers that had followed him at every turn. It was said that he was in constant mourning…fretting over the illness of his son, and missing his entire family in general. But the gossip mongers were most titillated by the rumors of how deeply he pined for his lady. And with each whisper, he said to himself…

What of it? Is it so strange that I should miss her?

They had not been separated since before their marriage. It was a painful realization to wake up each morning and not find her at his side.

But he would not think of those things now…not when their reunion was but a few steps away. Coming upon the orchard, he searched all around for her…his heart beating fast with anticipation. And at last he saw her. She was sitting beneath the cherry tree with her head down. Even from the distance where he stood, he could see how mournful her expression was. He smiled, knowing just how to rectify that sullenness. Ever so carefully he crept forward, intent on taking her by surprise. But a mutinous twig gave him away. It snapped under his foot. She lifted her head to look…and leapt to her feet, her eyes bright with joy. Wordlessly she fell into his arms, tears spilling down her cheeks. He held her tight against his frame, pressing a kiss to her hair. When at last they allowed a slight space between them, their lips met again and again. Their kisses ventured over eyes, cheeks, and all skin that was not covered.

“Oh my love,” said Cassia. “I am so happy to see you. Are you well? Was your journey difficult?”

He gathered her hands in his, pressing soft kisses to her palms.

“Now that I am returned to you, I am very well indeed.”

She smiled, delight in every feature. And it quickly turned to wifely concern. “You must certainly be exhausted. Come, let us to the house. I shall see that you are well tended to.”

“I am rather hungry. And the dust of the road lies heavy on me.”

“Then I shall have a fine meal prepared for you, and a hot bath afterwards.”

“Will you join me in it?”

The corner of her mouth rose instantly…a familiar gleam shining in her eye. She put her arms around his neck.

“Incorrigible devil. How I have missed you.” She kissed his lips, pressing herself against him. As his hands held her waist, drawing her body firmly to his own, she whispered in his ear.

“I shall join you, and see you are welcomed most properly.”

A low rumbling laugh escaped him. “Welcome me here and now.”

She smiled, but shook her head. “Were it not for the lateness of the day, I would consider it. But the children will soon be abed. Let us see them to sleep. They have longed for you as much as I have.”

As she linked her arm with his, walking along towards the house, he sighed.

“I have reunited with our children already, although not as I anticipated. Evelyn was proper enough in her welcome. And I ventured in to look after William, to find him sleeping. But alas, Theadora and Owen were quite a disappointment with their unseemly behavior, and I was forced to confine them to their rooms for the night. Have they been quarreling all the time I was away?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Not much more than usual.”

“Which is quite often.”

Now she laughed a little. “Owen is much like a little bull, pushing and shoving his way about. Regrettably, Thea is much the same way. It is a miracle that neither has been seriously injured.”

“If only they were as placid as Evelyn. She is spirited, but so very pleasant in temper. I had no fear that she would trouble you during my absence.”

“My troubles have been with William. These many days, I have been so fearful for him.”

“But he is recovering, is he not? I was told as much.”

Cassia nodded. “He is well, praise God. Still, no one can be certain of anything.”

He paused in their walking, turning to her. Drawing her against his breast, he held her close. “Beloved, do not be afraid.” He pressed his lips to her hair, sighing. “We shall stay by his side until you are convinced of his recovery. Will that ease your mind?”

Leaning back in his arms, she looked up at him. A tear fell down her cheek. “I love you, Guy. Few husbands would be so dear. Most would demand that their needs be met above all others.”

He smirked, a cheeky expression that made her smile.

“I shall make demands of you. Do not doubt it, wife. But I will be patient. I love you, and your happiness means more to me than my own.”

Passionately, repeatedly, she kissed him. He returned her affections with equal fervor, longing for so much more…but he held back his eagerness. He was aware that soon enough, if he was patient, he would be greatly rewarded for his efforts.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Shallow, you say?

I get some interesting comments about my work, but this one tops them all. For those who have read "The Tempest," you might find some humor in this...or maybe not.  I'll let you decide.  Here is an actual comment I recieved...

Guy is still at death's door, but Cassia is admiring his body. Doesn't that make Cassia come across as a bit shallow?

OK ladies, if you had this lying unconcious and helpless before you...

How would you be?

So, un-named commenter, you wonder about someone being shallow?  Do you think I'm shallow because I wrote the scene that way?  My reply to that is...

YES, I'm shallow because YES, I would look.  Is there a problem with that? I THINK NOT!

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

The wonder of a dance

I adore Gene Kelly. As a person with two left feet, I envy anyone who can dance, and he was the master. They just don't make em' like this anymore.

After the storm

This was taken at my Aunt's house a few weeks ago. There's just something about a rainbow...

If I could catch a rainbow,
I would do it just for you
And share with you its beauty
On the days you're feeling blue

If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own
A place to find serenity
A place to be alone

If I could take your troubles
I would toss them in the sea
But all these things I'm finding
Are impossible for me

I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair
But let me be what I know best
A friend who's always there