I stood with a man
Watching the sun go down.
The air was full of murmurous summer scents
And a brave breeze sang like a bugle
From a sky that smouldered in the west,
A sky of crimson, amethyst, gold and sepia
And blue as blue were the eyes of Helen
When she sat
Gazing from some high tower in Ilium
Upon the Grecian tents darkling below.
This man who stood beside me,
Gaped like some dull, half-witted animal
Doesn't that sunset remind you
Of a slice
Of underdone roast beef?"
-(who else but) P. G. Wodehouse
Ending 2017 intentionally.
1 week ago