I know, I told you I was done. I lied, OK. BUT, of course, I always have to add one more thing. ONE MORE THING. Always. I can't leave well enough alone. So -- do you like it? I went and wrote a kinda-poem and put on the envelope along with a fork. OK. You know you have to have a fork with cake that's what brioche stands for.
So the poem..... well it goes:
"Lost in a cell – separated from your children. Husband dead. Off with your head they yell. Courage like a badge of honor. Hair turned white. Beauty worn well. Where are your ancestors? Your Austria? The Others? Lost in a cell – Tossed in an open grave. Reunited in death with your king. Blood in the streets. Drowning in cake. Lost in the façade. Reality crashed in and took you out. Did they hear your cries? Did you hear theirs? Lost in a cell – separated from your children. MjL/10-08"
No comments:
Post a Comment