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Array
(
[sid] => 48992
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Mountain House
[time] => 2004-05-24 23:34:29
[hometext] => *** The old house with its creaking floors... a dose of moonlight... and a book of poetry - the reasons for this. Dare I say- this is fiction... I stayed there alone... It was, though, an amazing place - one day maybe, I'll share it with someone ***
[bodytext] => Winding along the narrow lane, we arrive at A lovely, old house atop a mountain in New York It is a quiet, calming, comfortable place Dusted with the spirit of days long past Settling in, we are wrapped in quiet warmth Beginning gently and growing ever stronger now The sound of our footsteps on the wooden floor Left behind as we drift out into the night We stand together, chatting nonchalantly Sharing our joys and our idiosyncrasies Prodding gently to learn ever more, to know Gaining a new understanding of who we are Until finally, long after the moon disappeared We retreat to our private room, firelight dances Alone in the safety of a hushed room we whisper Now seeing the possibility of what is to come With the new dawn, a new beginning We move through the day without pause We run, reckless and desperate, into the future Standing with anticipation at the edge of tomorrow We have, without question, a thousand Different thoughts, plans, expectations, dreams Anxiously rattling around inside, awaiting resolution Neither of us with the same perception as yesterday We have shaken off the cobwebs, unable to deny That everything about us and around us seems different Winding along the narrow lane, as we leave A lovely, old house atop a mountain in New York [comments] => 6 [counter] => 162 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Silent-No-More [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 35 [ratings] => 7 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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