In the Heart of a Rose
By George Marion McClellan
I will hide my soul and its mighty love
In the bosom of this rose,
And its dispensing breath will take
My love wherever it goes.
And perhaps she’ll pluck this very rose,
And, quick as blushes start,
Will breathe my hidden secret in
Her unsuspecting heart.
And there I will live in her embrace
And the realm of sweetness there,
Enamored with an ecstasy,
Of bliss beyond compare.
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Friday was a lot like Thursday, except that I managed to move the front file cabinet to get to the back file cabinet, which I expected to have a lot of crap in it and instead discovered that I saved every article I ever published, filed in folders, so I'm keeping those. Our basement is now repainted, ready to be recarpeted, and the fancy pens I used in grad school in the '90s are safely packed.
We had Grand Fusion with my parents, who are having a bad week (my father tore his Achilles tendon playing tennis, and is wearing one of those huge, heavy boots) then we came home, watched some women's basketball, and remembered we never caught up on this season's Perry Mason, which we're watching now. We saw cherry blossom petals blowing off trees, so before they blow away:
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