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Poetry
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| Advice | |
| By ailbhe | ||||
| 26 April 2005 | ||||
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All the muddied cloaks All the muddied cloaks in all the world will not make her love you. Lay them down over puddle after puddle, over streams and rivers and lakes, cover the Atlantic with your clothing for her to skip across - . and why stop there? Lift her like a ballerina, carry her on your shoulders around the world so that her tiny high-heeled sandals need never hit the ground (I suppose your head between her legs might be reward enough for you). . But don't be fooled. All the cloaks ever made laid out from here to the New World will not make her love you.
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