Quote and comment

I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering. -Robert Frost, poet (1874-1963)
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I would extend that to almost any kind of writing. Sometimes I will start something with a certain ending in mind and more often than not, the story changes itself to end another way.

Ah, and to the bagatelle in 210, pbbbbth! Try not to insult your tech over much. They tend to get mildly pissy.

An Autumn morning

Fond memories of thee, my love, on a chill October morn, new-fallen leaves, their orange, shocking against black asphalt, like some great hand spilled paint intended for an evening sky. The smell of wood smoke in the air reminds me of a longing I forgot I had, a desire to just sit with you by a fire, huddled close for warmth and companionship, chatting about God and Life, delving into the mysteries of the Universe and with each passing moment, growing just a little closer to you, becoming a little more like each other.

May peace find you, my love, and may you find peace. I hope your desires manifest and any emptiness you may have known be filled with Love and Joy.