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Poetry
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| For My Weasel | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||||
| 11 February 2007 | ||||||||||
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Soon the blushing cherry tree will cast her blossom to the wind, and the chaste apple will spread her vestal petals, white as milk. Yet, for now, the only blush is on your fair cheek, my valentine, the only virtue, is your innocence, the only warmth, is your love.Let all of nature do her best, astound my eyes with orchid’s bloom, delight my ears with skylark song, assuage my heart with puppy hugs. But none of these, none of these, my darling, will ever come close to the joy I find in you. Oli 11/02/07
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