Monday, January 13, 2003
Shiela Comments
Rating: ★2.9
When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle
The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call;
As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,
And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl.
...
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7/28/2025 1:19:13 PM # 1.0.0
I feel so flattered, though I know it is not me you wrote. But believe me with that same name as with your muse, I felt you're endless adoration in truth. XD Nice poem!