If you don't count the one hundred and twenty-six
weeks I've spent basking in the absence of our love,
and the six hundred and eighty-six days I've spent
thinking about you, and the eight hundred and forty-four
hours I've spent talking to you, then I've just
completed nine hundred nights of solitude. Just about.
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It's been too long, she says. My muse, she waits...
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5 comments:
Some days shall always be longer than others. On other occasions, most nights will just fly by.
Life is the little twilight zone that lurks in between.
Nice one...gabriel would approve
Hope it isn't painful and if it is that it gets less so soon.
@Knife - Oh no! He would not. Or maybe he would, he does think Shakira is a Columbian treasure after all... Sigh! What age does to a brilliant mind!
@Pat - No, it's not painful. It's not even accurate (anything labelled "clouds" on my blog is fiction). I was just playing around with the title of Marquez's masterpiece :-)
she is a treasure ;)
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