CoCo hope you are well miss those Belles-lettres (page 3)

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Thank you, dear Talesin!

Love,

CoCo

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Spun in the wee hours by an industrious-by-nature spider, a single, immeasurable strand of gossamer hangs, suspended, it would seem, from nowhere.

It has been caught and brightened by a gently rising eastern sun.

A scarcely glancing breeze, declaring a brisk salutation as it careers through the hollow, sets the thread to swaying in slow, mesmerizing motion.

mrsjones5

((((((Hugs CoCo))))))

I've missed your words of beauty my dear.

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Dear Mrs. Jones:

Thank you so much for your kind words!

It seems I can get to a computer only every few weeks and want to check in, of course, with all you dear people. I hope that you and hubby and the kids are all well.

Till next we meet.

Love,

CoCo

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SLEEP WILL COME

I know that sleep will come, perhaps not today,
But soon, an eternal, blessed slumber that bids

Farewell to a suffering that even the likes of true
Love in no measure, great or small, can assuage.

What is this anguish that must be borne upon my
Lone shoulders that once were broad and able to

Withstand the weight of both our worlds without the
Least of pain or downward sloping of brawny frame?

tec

(((((CoCo)))))

Been missing you.

Peace and love to you,

Tammy

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Missing you, too, dear Tammy. I hope that you and yours are well.

Take care of yourself.

Love,

CoCo

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Vincent is sullen ...

He hasn't spoken to me in three days.

I am always cheerful, but since Father's death my big brother has become moodier, less predictable. He abandoned us - Mother, Father, me, little brother - years ago in search of his god. I do not believe in him ... god, that is. Of course, I do believe in my big brother even though he makes me so angry at times that it scares me, and I don't scare easily. I can watch scary movies - horror flicks - that make bigger and taller guys pass out, but I have a strong stomach. I had to be tough when Vincent was away finding life's meaning and I, little brother, was left at home to deal with real life, caring for Mother and Father. He was on foreign shores saving lost souls while giving no thought to me - he couldn't be bothered to answer my pleas for help. I called out, he never once answered. His god was more important than me.

I am forgiving but not forgetting.

He seems to want to talk to me - something clearly is weighing on his mind, his heart is heavy. I sense these things as I am very intuitive. He starts to speak after I wait and wait patiently and with love in my heart. He lowers his head and utters something inaudible to my otherwise keen hearing, turns on his heel and walks away and leaves me stranded as the room closes in on me ...

Talk to me, Vincent ... talk to me.

The room is getting smaller....

Quentin

I too have been concerned about your being MIA....are you doing straight readings of your work or, using the style of Vachel Lindsay? Since you stated some where in costume. Come when you can. The door is always open, a comfortable chair in which to be seated, next to a slow burning fire, with a tankard of buttered rum to stave off the chill.

Terry and I meet with some "brothers and sisters" from long ago, who are now ex-jws. A most pleasing and pleasant evening.

nancy drew

Yes let us sit around the fireplace to stave off the chill and sip our drinks.

CoCo hope you are well miss those Belles-lettres

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