who find solace
in a twisted oak,
who can love
the maggot in a pear.
But I adore
the plum that has no worm,
the song that comes out pure,
the shine of a polished stone,
the chick with deepest down.
There are those who love the rain.
Noy I.
I love the cloudless sky.
There are those
who long to easy
a sick dame's steps,
who ache to trim
an old man's beard.
But I yearn
for a golden feather,
for the greenest leaf,
the scent of a sleeping child,
the curcle of a perfect peach.
Some love the rain.
Not I.
I love the cloudless sky.
When you think of me,
remember hiw I yearned,
remember how I ached.
Know how I longed
to be
a bright blue sky.
Fairest - Gail Carson Levine
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