Thou did’st escape the spoiler’s hand
That would have reft thy charms away,
’Twas pity check’d—and let thee stand!
While cherish’d by the blushing fair,
And waving on thy hardy stem,
Thy fragrance rich, perfum’d the air,
Thou’rt blasted now to me and them!
~ John Castillo
That feeling of wanting, never letting go. It comes without warning, it leaves in a fit of mourning. The loss. Let it rest. Seasonal longing, perhaps I protest, too much, oh yes. For it will be back before too long, perking right up and singing their song.
All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.
Today is a #BeautifulSunday by @Ace108, where we share our day in the most possibly beautiful way that we can. I am having the best of days, a definite #SublimeSunday in the making, by the Meister of my morning, 
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost