9 Chickweed Lane by Brooke McEldowney for April 03, 2011
April 02, 2011
April 04, 2011
Transcript:
When my love must depart, his goodbye is an art form. He whispers of love till the words start to glow. Up to heaven and himmel he cries out in smile long, clausal metaphors take root and grow. Literary allusions abound with profusions of Shakespeare, Lord Byron and browning in tow. But although I defer to his words... ...I prefer his nonverbal approach when he greets me hello.
