My Brown Mouse
Three in the morning.
Thin curtains drawn across the night billow gracefully for the passing ghosts of memories.
Candles flicker, casting wisps of sweet vanilla breath into a swirling airborne waltz. A slow motion dance that fades gracefully into the unending dark pool of time
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This is quite extraordinary.
How are you?
x.
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How are you? Silly question; You are romantic and restless at the moment. Perhaps it is the promise of Spring.
Thank you! I was going to ask what you are doing up at 5 in the morning, but that would be another silly question. With fire on your mind the Nytol stands no chance. That “My Brown Mouse” might appeal to you doesn't need an explanation from Freud. Haahaha....
I'm fine thank you.
My flame still flutters, but my wax is getting low so I avoid draughty places.
No Moths. There are many brighter candles around.
The Brown Mouse found a new home. She's doing fine now as far as I can tell. Bless her sweet silkiness.
Fondness, Wib.
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I visited LJ once more, my journal long since has been deleted by the site as I had not been using it for years. I wanted to drop in and see if you had updated recently and I saw this poem. I think I might be your brown mouse, perhaps..it may have been those hours watching Twin Peaks quoting Nadine Hurley from the show, that was her phrase I think.
The poem really is beautiful.
I miss you very much and think of you often.
I dearly hope you are well, if you still use this site please let me know how you are.
Love,
Bolb.
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