Posted by Glencora Falconer on December 17, 1998 at 08:40:53:
In Reply to: Re: A letter from DADDY posted by DaDDY on December 17, 1998 at 07:39:49:
Mi Corazon,
My miserable addled brain knows not how to respond to your honied words. Their nector rides heavy on my comprehension. My philososphy cannot encompass your sweetly textured meanings, but I shall endeavor to peruse, and too treasure, their fine form pressed upon the page and seared forever in my memory.
Your bonny son, shone so sweetly in the fine, fine sunshine of a summer day, but I, I was but a mirror, or a pane of glass to him. Only to be glanced through, or be, a mere reflection of himself. But you, you, you have seen to my deepest, warmest center, to my very soul.
You speak of warm evenings, ahhhh, a few of those I've known. The sun setting brilliantly upon a bridge of gold. A eagle glides on the warm winds wafting up from the ocean. Humming birds dance in courtship, one upon the other. A menage a toi of avian passion.
I'll sit tonight, under the twinkling stars, and dream of your "stake... planted, mature and strong" a positive maypole in the spring. All decked with ribbons and flowers, a promise of.... But I 'll not continue. For much separates us, and much always shall.
Remember Mi Corazon, you shall always have my "esteem" for the saddest thing that can be said,
"What could have been."
The tears shall dampen my pillow this evening, they will the bittersweet tears of longing that cannot be fulfilled.
I'll shall don the slippers of a winged-nature and be with you on the morrow. For responsibilities call, one's that I can not deny.
Adieu, Adieu, Mi Corazon, till it the morrow.
'Cora
:
: Mon Coeur
: I read you well, those words so deep, those eyes I yearn to learn about, but I challenge not your soul with these few words, but praise it all in my mind behold.
: With great risk of scolding from my young son I risk the wrath of the thespian mind, the words that can hurt more than the scythe, the scolding of son to Father is as brine upon my eyes, but risk I do for he is kind, I should know, he is of mine.
: Indeed Cora you have found the man, perhaps undone him I am not sure, but found one of thoughts, of summertime, of warm evenings in the barmy sun, of private silence bound with golden twine, from golden eyes that can see mine.
: Hurry Cora and bare your soul, I thirst for all, I need to know, I am like a caravan in tow, awaiting your every word to quench my need.
: The stake is planted, mature and strong, and all in bud, but sadly marred where others have tried to scale, to reach out, to try to hold my hand, sadly I have not been so that bold.
:
: Attend your tasks and be aware, that here there are thoughts quite rare, anxious to hear that you are fine, don those sandals with anxious haste,
: to tell me more of your journey so far, of other things from afar..................
: Aš Biento