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Poetry for October
Sonnet 73
William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum’d by that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv’st which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Pictures for October
2019-10-28 01AutumnSky 2019-10-28 02AutumnCemetary

2019-10-28 03AutumnWall 2019-10-28 04AutumnWheelbarrow


Prosfic for October
All Done by Numbers - author unknown, and Beginnings by Lainie Stone. The former not my characterisations at all, the latter fine. Both from the UK Paper Circuit Folder 1, about which more soon...

...and the Lads!
BD asleepincar1
Because right now I just want my be-e-e-e-ed... zzz....zz...z
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Hold Your Breath, Sunshine


A ship is safe in the harbour - but that's not what ships are for.

~o~

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. (Sarah Williams)

~o~

Could've.
Should've.
Would've.
Didn't. Didn't. Didn't.

~o~

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