When do we lose our capacity for joy in the sun on our face, the feel of cool water on our bodies in summer, the wind shifting through the trees? What do we gain with age? Wisdom is something I suppose but wouldn't we all trade it in an instant for: joy in the sun on our face, happiness with the feel of cool water on our bodies in summer, fascination with the wind shifting through the trees?
I think of The Smiths: "You're older now, and you're a clever swine..."
I have been an arse most of my life. Overly romantic, overly idealistic, prone to bouts of depression, a lover of booze, opera and language. Eleanor is teaching me. I am a willing pupil.
7 comments:
Go not too near a House of Rose --
The depredation of a Breeze --
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarms its walls away --
Nor try to tie the Butterfly,
Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy,
In insecurity to lie
Is Joy's insuring quality.
That was actually me - google got my accounts all bewildered and confused.
Ha! This proves that Danyl and Maggie exist. (Richard thought I was making you up.)
You're telling me something pretty deep here and I think I'm getting it. Actually, it's a nice point. Thank you.
Does Jeremy still throw bottles?
Jeremy is a twuble maker
Jeremy is a bwottle breaker
He broke a bottle once at work
Bwoken bwottle Jeremy wore a smirk
Stop being silly.
This must be your highest ever number of simultaneous blog-watchers at one time Nhoj! Hey Danyl... how are you?
Don't ask me how I am, will you Yhtac!
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