Can you see the bloody great bunny that got dumped in my lap? can you? I'm trying to think drabbles, and half my brain is trying to write an ode, in a William-like fashion, but filtered through over a hundred years experience of love and other stuff.
This is what happened...
That precious boy,
who holds my dead, unbeating heart in labour-callused hands;
That youth, no more a child,
who faces death at every dusk but neither shies away nor hides;
The man, full-grown,
Who still is but a child within his heart, so swift with loving;
My mate, blood shared between us both,
a bond no one could ever hope to break.
My one true love,
whose death will make me watch the rising sun with hope in heart;
That it might take this demon,
if not to heaven, mayhap to a lesser hell where angels visit,
That I might see again,
that precious boy, the man full-grown, my mate, my love.