I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell;I know the grass beyond the door,The sweet keen smell,The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.You have been mine before—How long ago I may not know:But just when at that swallow’s soarYour neck turned so,Some veil did fall, — I knew it all of yore. Happy Birthday Dearest!
I wait in the medical centre while gently holding my injured right hand with my left.The paramedic had wrapped it in gauze the night before, after applying Burn Aid. I could see that he feels pretty bad for me when he sees the scalding."you're right handed aren't you?" He had asked pityingly.At last they call my name, and I am ...