Few Scars
So maybe I don't like it, 
So maybe I'm no longer okay, 
No longer relieved or happy. 
I feel alone, 
I feel longing everyday, 
For romance again, 
Silly it is, 
When it's burned me not often, 
But enough for a few scars. 
Wishing
I wish I could have shared my day with you, 
Wish I could have seen you smile, 
Wish I could have made you laugh, 
Or just forget about your worries for awhile. 
Wish I could have called you, 
Laughing in your ear, 
Wish I could have told you, 

Oh wonder of a little dove,
Cooing words of mother-love;
Sitting on your nest so near,
Guarding baby-eggs so dear.
You would die to strive
To save your eggs lives,
You hunt for their food;
In the wilds of forrest-wood.
God gave you abilities:
Instincts and agility.
A symbol of meekness,
Purity, not weakness,
Strong character, and wise,
Patient tone, gentle eyes.
If all men from you would learn,
A godly character to earn,
A countenance of love and grace;

May 11th, 185-
Dearest Claudia,
I was so thrilled to receive your letter and invitation. I accept with great pleasure and excitement the invitation that you have so obligingly sent, and you may expect me on the evening coach in Denton on September 30th.
We are praying that your father's work will prosper, and that your family will have peace about your living situation in town. I know from experience that living in the middle of a big town is not very pleasant.

((Okay, okay, I know it's taken me forever to get this up. Sorry, I really am. But I've been trying to find the "perfect" ending for this story, rather than settling for the "right" one. *shrug* I'm still working on it, but I've almost written to the end of this ole' tale. Heaven knows what I'll be posting when it's finally done. XD ))

Twenty-Three:

"The Possession"

-The Visitor-

“What can I do ya for today?” the gruff owner of Eilif Inn inquired as he cleaned out a large mug.

Through discerning eyes he stared at a hooded man who had confidently and proudly taken residence at the counter. His entrance had been one of show as he crossed the wooden floor of the inn with a sign of arrogance.

I looked impatiently around myself, and shifted in the cold plastic chair. I’d been sitting in it for the last hour and a half. I had wanted to go into the room, but they had insisted I stay seated on this chair and wait. For how much longer would I be in suspense for? They hadn’t said. They had only said they would inspect it. What if they didn’t like it? I breathed in and sighed heavily. My stress level was way over what it should be. It was strange because, at this moment I really disliked them, but I knew that if they accepted it, then I would really like them.

Circulation
Fingers brush against bare wrists, 
Surprised by the attention, 
And by the eyes that follow me. 
I smile pleasantly back, 
Feeling friendship form, 
Though your attention may mean something different. 
One I know to act like a goof, 
The other more shy, I know not, 
And not quite sure if it's just friendly, 
Friendly conversation, 
Friendly touches, 
Friendly showing off. 
Loneliness will make some silly, 
While new experiences will make some sheepish, 
Acting differently, 

Cennanon leads the way on the steep, twisting path that leads down into the hidden valley of Imladris. Sweet-smelling pines give way to the oaks and beeches that we eledh love so well. There is a sleepy feeling about the valley of Imladris. No evil thing has been here. The night is silent, save for the rustling of leaves as wind passes through the trees and the content noises of small animals as they move about their business, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. Blinking fireflies flit past, briefly illuminating themselves, then going dark again.

The Great Lion walked up to Susan, his glorious mane waving in the breeze. He stood very close and very still. They were in an open field, and the tall grass waved soundlessly. He looked at her, just looked at her. He did that sometimes.
Susan watched as tears fell down from his gold, kingly eyes. And Susan knew why he was crying; he was crying over her.
She longed to touch him, but didn’t dare. His beauty pierced her, but she couldn’t look away. She was aching inside for the wonder which she had once felt.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

When I was in sixth grade, we were given the task to memorize a poem of our choice to recite in front of the class. The same assignment had first appeared up two years earlier, when I was in fourth grade--inarguably my best ever year of school, since it wads then that I was first introduced to the real world of writing, but that's another story. Once again, I was faced with a decision:

Go easy, or go hard.