series1bk3.6.4

 

Waste no tears on the fearful pile the worrying  hurricane splintered in its wake, as you make grand plans for new homes, sprucely tidied with pride - in quest for neat domestic bliss. A kiss whispered from behind a muslin yashmak hushes restraint like a chosen posy of flowers, her lowered lids coyly lifting to suggest the best intentions - a bland panacea. Sheer-edged and unsmiling, his lips are clipped for sparse communication with eyes - in the guise of a hawk - which no affections seek; he speaks direct, informed, inflexible substance.      A mother's husband and a father's wife,      as such, must integrate within my life.