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Literature Text
February 2011; Valentine's Day
We walked hand-in-hand
Through the deserted park
Blanketed by snow.
After a little bit of silence
To take in the beauty of it all,
I pulled you over
Off the invisible path
To stop under a few tree branches.
"What is it?"
You asked,
Still holding on to my hand.
I had to let go
In order to dig out your gift,
Which you protested to.
"You've already gotten me things..."
But that didn't stop me.
Your face lit up
Brighter than the sunlit snow
As you whispered,
"You remembered."
You hugged the books to your chest,
Smiling contently to yourself
Before turning to dig in your purse.
"I... I got you something, too,"
You said slowly.
"I dunno...
But I noticed you writing a lot,
So..."
And you pulled out a blank book.
It was bound
In fancy leather,
And the very first page
Had a very cute signature from you.
"I love it,"
I told you immediately,
Carefully setting down everything
To give you a hug.
As I wrapped my arms
Around your lower back,
You stood paralyzed by me,
But regained your composure
And hugged me back around my neck.
And I made up my mind to kiss you.
I started to pull away,
Leaving myself close to you
And my hands resting on your waist.
You left your hands on my shoulders,
Staring up at my eyes.
I smiled at you,
And when you smiled back,
I cradled your cheeks
In both of my hands,
Leaned down,
Closed my eyes,
And kissed you.
We walked hand-in-hand
Through the deserted park
Blanketed by snow.
After a little bit of silence
To take in the beauty of it all,
I pulled you over
Off the invisible path
To stop under a few tree branches.
"What is it?"
You asked,
Still holding on to my hand.
I had to let go
In order to dig out your gift,
Which you protested to.
"You've already gotten me things..."
But that didn't stop me.
Your face lit up
Brighter than the sunlit snow
As you whispered,
"You remembered."
You hugged the books to your chest,
Smiling contently to yourself
Before turning to dig in your purse.
"I... I got you something, too,"
You said slowly.
"I dunno...
But I noticed you writing a lot,
So..."
And you pulled out a blank book.
It was bound
In fancy leather,
And the very first page
Had a very cute signature from you.
"I love it,"
I told you immediately,
Carefully setting down everything
To give you a hug.
As I wrapped my arms
Around your lower back,
You stood paralyzed by me,
But regained your composure
And hugged me back around my neck.
And I made up my mind to kiss you.
I started to pull away,
Leaving myself close to you
And my hands resting on your waist.
You left your hands on my shoulders,
Staring up at my eyes.
I smiled at you,
And when you smiled back,
I cradled your cheeks
In both of my hands,
Leaned down,
Closed my eyes,
And kissed you.
Literature
Untold Stories- The Unsinkable Ship: Prologue
-6:43 AM, April 10th, 1912- Southampton, England
Nicholas Thatcher woke up extra early today. He gasped, waking up immediately. He sat up in his hotel bed, looking at the clock. Smiling, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Sofia (his sister) who was sleeping next to him. He went bare foot on the wooden floor, past the bed his mom and Amber (his other sister, twin of Sofia) were sleeping in. The 11 year old kneeled in the wooden chair that was pushed up to the high window so he could look out.
Their hotel in Southampton overlooked the White Star Line's Pier. Nick could see it from their floor of the hotel, just barely. In that ocean dock
Literature
My head above water
footprints in a parking lot
caffeine highs and marijuana lows
He took residence in that lonely spot
sometimes I guess that's just how it goes
I left my heart on my bedside
now he's where hope resides
with each slow step he seems to guide
me out of the dark and into his eyes
watch
he keeps my head above water
watch
he keeps my head above water
In these waves I keep
my thoughts, my dreams, my heart asleep
I need to believe that something extraordinary is possible
logic finds no other ways to make me responsible
when my calculations all answer to you
watch
he keeps my head above water
watch
he keeps my head above water
he keeps my
Literature
Love, According to the Greeks
Love is a flame; it has potential to heal,
But ‘tis also the greatest pain one may feel.
Oh, and so many kinds exist,
But which one shall be your best fit?
Is it the light hearted eros or ludus?
The desirable pragma or agape?
But be careful not to jump into the fray;
You may catch mania; obsession, decay,
Possessive, accompanied by lust, and envy.
‘Tis much worse than common idolatry.
Do you exhibit eros, or lust and infatuation?
Yes my friend, there is a differentiation.
One may be physical but it is healthy!
The other is rooted in no logic; fantasy.
And, oh, when delightful eros and pragma meet!
Will end with a wo
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