Illustration: Aesop's Fables

Window sill that smells like tea in coffee cups that scents not of coffee-
Knew how to play the mandolin that sits by words that may have been
The ones I wrote down yesterday but blew from window and far away
I lost the page from which I left- to read again; the wind stole the numbers and never gave them back-

For if love should not blind truth, then what is truth but love that we shan’t see?
If envy shoots another then the wounds cannot the greater be.
If cupid lost his arrows ‘midst the arrows lost from death alone
then we have found them both in man that sits upon his golden throne.
No victory is ever lasting, yet when will one claim it his?
If broken mandolins still play, then what fool’s lesson was meant in this?

She cannot run nor embrace the tide; the words are black and loud-
The fall shall come before the silence that shall make him proud.
Trust not, trust her, trust in a promise that’s neither rough nor fine
As silken cloth or fancied dangers; those who help themselves will never be in heaven.

Leave the curtains drawn in pictures bright across the white that sears,
Teach me things I already know to close the book and shut the tears.
Take a pawn to take a king; take them all and thus you win.
Let me be and let me play these tales on my broken mandolin.


[Rachel style bordering. ]
More the poem than the actual photo in this one. That is really sad considering the mediocrity of the poem. *headdesk*
Will scrap.