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| do not remove - web set and game designed & created by belly | | | |
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| Blogthings  click above | | web set designed & created by belly | | |
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| This webset page was assembled on Monday July 9, 2007 by NIP with graphics from Tiles ©By NIP using one of the many auto-scripters available at Chat_Central_Gateway All rights reserved KENDOC 2005 | | | | | | | language=javascript>var bMB=true;</SCRIPT> |
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| do not remove - designed & created by belly | | | | |
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| web set designed & created by belly | | | |
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| designed & created by belly | | | | designed & created by belly | | | | The Loss of Love by Countee Cullen All through an empty place I go,
And find her not in any room;
The candles and the lamps I light
Go down before a wind of gloom.
Thick-spraddled lies the dust about,
A fit, sad place to write her name
Or draw her face the way she looked
That legendary night she came.
The old house crumbles bit by bit;
Each day I hear the ominous thud
That says another rent is there
For winds to pierce and storms to flood.
My orchards groan and sag with fruit;
Where, Indian-wise, the bees go round;
I let it rot upon the bough;
I eat what falls upon the ground.
The heavy cows go laboring
In agony with clotted teats;
My hands are slack; my blood is cold;
I marvel that my heart still beats.
I have no will to weep or sing,
No least desire to pray or curse;
The loss of love is a terrible thing;
They lie who say that death is worse. | | designed & created by belly | | |
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| web set designed & created by belly | | | |
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