I had the unfortunate experience this morning/afternoon to be bitten by the Byronesque melancholy poetry bug. I completely blame the book that my husband found on the bargain rack at Borders entitled Lyrics by Sting. This is not to mention the fact that it is darker today and probably about to storm again like it did last night for about twenty
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It reminded me of a poem that Anatoliy would write... and I can pretend that it would be much better written in Russian and that the translation was off. ;)
(I think part of it is that it needed to be longer, but I was already embarrassed enough that I was writing bad poetry... )
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