O to touch a unicorn- how my heart would soar how my hand would tremble, eyes widen in child-like awe.
posted by to touch a unicorn at 12:20 AM
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. - Eleanor Roosevelt
© 2006 by Sandy@Heimdallr
If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . . If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, For we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in! ~ Shel Silversteinder
Then we sat on the edge of the earth, with our feet dangling over the side, and marvelled that we had found each other.
Its a long, long road
its a big, big world
we are wise, wise women
we are giggling girls
we both carry a smile
to show when we're pleased
both carry a switchblade
in our sleeves
Ani deFranco
from: "If He Tries Anything"
10 Comments:
Nice shot of the lamp and church.
The shadow watches you. An errant fragment of night. Maybe after your shot if flittered and slid amid other deep dark pools and followed you home. You didn't notice at all that graveyard visiter of the night.
Looks like the ghostly shadow was staring right back at you with its glowing golden eyes. Maybe the proximity of the beautiful church protected you.
Thanks dave, it looks a bit comic strip Disney, doesn't it? Not doctored either. :)
That's ok Martin it can follow me home :} its only when you invite them in that you have to worry. :p
Isn't that wierd Velvet and I wasn't wearing anything shiny, just a thin cotton jacket, creeps! You could be right, it was the light from the church keeping an eye on me!:)
...and everything was yellow... :)
nice pics!
Just a little touch of magic neko :)
Was that last one a ghost? Do you think? :-o
:-o
The nearest thing to a jumbie I've ever seen GG :)
haha! reminds me of RL Stevenson's
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
Haha thank you moi that poem's great, funny. I shall keep it.
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