only slow rhythmic swaying

[musesfool]

So, um, tonight in the shower, I may have started writing that Holden/Phoebe story I've been kicking around since December. *facepalm* I suppose a reread of Catcher in the Rye is in order.

Meanwhile, "The Calendar Hung Itself" is now 3,670 words long, and I'm only in November. There are still five months to go! It's crazy! It was not supposed to get this long. But at least I am pretty sure what's going on. It's not the year in the life story I planned or expected to write, but it's going, and I with it.

*

Have a poem before I go to bed:

Slumber-Song

Sleep; and my song shall build about your bed
A paradise of dimness. You shall feel
The folding of tired wings; and peace will dwell
Throned in your silence: and one hour shall hold
Summer, and midnight, and immensity
Lulled to forgetfulness. For, where you dream,
The stately gloom of foliage shall embower
Your slumbering thought with tapestries of blue.
And there shall be no memory of the sky,
Nor sunlight with its cruelty of swords.
But, to your soul that sinks from deep to deep
Through drowned and glimmering colour, Time shall be
Only slow rhythmic swaying; and your breath;
And roses in the darkness; and my love.

~Siegfried Sassoon

~*~