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Old poetry and lamb roast




Well, I'm sick. Hooray. Great thing to happen when I'll be headed back to work next week. My housemates cooked the lamb roast that I started with mashed potatoes, which was great comfort food. Fortunately we should be able to eat that for the next few days, and we still have potato and pea curry, pea soup and stuffed chicken.

I was looking through old stuff of mine earlier today, and found a whole bunch of old poetry (oh gosh, I was so moody when I wrote most of it). Most of it's not appropriate for here, but I thought I'd post one that I'm pretty sure is fine. It's called 'The Night'.

Beware of the night which consumes your heart.

It creeps over you as you stand in the dark.

You don't try to hide, for it's natural to you

that the night should come - and you'll come through.

But the darkness never yields its prey,

and tonight it began to steal you away.

Beware of the dark, for it takes you away

to a place where you're lost to the light of the day.



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I'm a Robert Frost fan and write my own poetry from time to time.

You and I should get together and write some sometime this winter. We can roast Elfriede from the giant ice block she'll be trapped in while we do it too.

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