h a l f b a k e r yA riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a rich, flaky crust
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goostas
I never called November, never wrote him (not even a postcard), never had i dropped him a line. Yet, here he is, brazenly showing his face at my door, unwelcome and uninvited. With his nasty smirk, he stands before me. I could tell from his eyes that he had hog-tied Autumn and threw him in the basement with Summer. Mind you, Autumn and Summer had once been lovers, but she dumped him for Vernal Equinox, whom everybody called Vern. I know that November is merely the henchman for the cruel Lord Winter, and knows not the wickedness that he ushers into my life, but I cannot forgive him, despite his ignorance.
sadly, i am elfless, in far too many ways.
goostas@yahoo.com
[Oct 09 2002] |
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