Come wet a widow's eye
Cover the night with your love
Dry the rain from my beaten face
Drink the wine the red sweet taste of mine
Come cover me with you
For the thrill till you will take me in
Come comfort me in you ...
For me For you
Time devours passion's beauty
With me With you
~Come Cover Me
I've been carrying around this little swatch of fabric for a while now. It's yellow paisley with orange and red floral swirls on it. I could turn it over and over but I had no idea what to make with it. Insiration hadn't burned any new bright ideas in my head. For once I left it in the wagon next to Me too after a rousing night of 'why is' before he fell asleep. I crept from beneath the flap backwards and checked one last time before heading to the fires.
The long nights and early mornings had begun to take its toll on me but I could see it etched on the faces gathered there as well. Lines on the Mistresses' faces stirred that want to fix everything and make it all better part of me. They spoke of others with a caring worry that shaded the evening with a warmth. I've learned that their hearts are as big as the harriga is wide and it encompasses all.
The topic of Noodle's hair helped lighten the mood ... turn it from blue to a rosy pink. I haven't been around the fires much of late so this was news to me ... the new color thing. A master had coughed up a bottle of blue dye to return it to its original splendor. The women liked blue ... just the way she was but who would be the one to see to bringing back that luster was up for debate. In the meantime, the bottle had mysteriously disappeared.
Here goes one of my brilliant ideas into action, not on hairstyling 101, I liked the girl for a million different reasons, not because of her hair. My idea was to offer the little piece of fabric I had to patch the Mistress' pocket where the bottle had somehow fallen through. I was beginning to understand I can't always fix things but there were still ways to be of help. It may not be needed but like the little swatch it was there if anyone ever did. Enough little swatches given by all made a quilt or something like Joseph's coat, colorful, beautiful, useful.
After everyone else had turned in for the night, it was the kaiila Mistress that still watched over the camp, keeping the fire fed with little chips. The conversation began about some nut and honey layered pastries I'd made. They had been thrown together quickly over a fire and were by no means pretty. I wasn't even sure if they were edible but it all spun new plans for the future. Funny how that happens sometimes. We spoke of how he liked honey and maybe when I made more she could take some to him. Just not tell him I made them.
You love him don't you? Right to the core of things. What was there to say? She understood the silent nod. We spoke of how I came to her family and why, how I kept my distance now not because it made anything easier for me but that I didn't want to add any more pain or hurt.
It cut deep to hear her say that perhaps the boy was my destiny. It was not the destiny that I wanted, would I accept the responsibilities I'd been given .. yes. But don't tell me it is my destiny. Destiny ... that word makes my teeth grit together now. Fate, Destiny, the skies .. call it what you will but I have no fondness for its insertion of it's will over ours. I may be the kettle calling the pot black for my own slipshod patch job.
I was worried however, about watching over him. Could I manage to hurt him too? What if I made some big miserable mistake and it caused him pain? She tried to put away my fears by saying she thought I was the best thing that had ever happened to the boy. That in the walled cities, they had nannies .. someone that looked after the children, that it sounded like what was doing.
When the topic turned again, I already knew that there had been a little red headed waif addition around the wagons. It was hard not to notice when a Master .. even one only wagon wheel tall appraises you like a ripe tomato. She mentioned he would be there with us for a little while. I knew and I understood. I'd heard. It was another part of the concern that lined the women's faces ... another that they loved and cared for.
We were all little patches woven together.
Cover the night with your love
Dry the rain from my beaten face
Drink the wine the red sweet taste of mine
Come cover me with you
For the thrill till you will take me in
Come comfort me in you ...
For me For you
Time devours passion's beauty
With me With you
~Come Cover Me
I've been carrying around this little swatch of fabric for a while now. It's yellow paisley with orange and red floral swirls on it. I could turn it over and over but I had no idea what to make with it. Insiration hadn't burned any new bright ideas in my head. For once I left it in the wagon next to Me too after a rousing night of 'why is' before he fell asleep. I crept from beneath the flap backwards and checked one last time before heading to the fires.
The long nights and early mornings had begun to take its toll on me but I could see it etched on the faces gathered there as well. Lines on the Mistresses' faces stirred that want to fix everything and make it all better part of me. They spoke of others with a caring worry that shaded the evening with a warmth. I've learned that their hearts are as big as the harriga is wide and it encompasses all.
The topic of Noodle's hair helped lighten the mood ... turn it from blue to a rosy pink. I haven't been around the fires much of late so this was news to me ... the new color thing. A master had coughed up a bottle of blue dye to return it to its original splendor. The women liked blue ... just the way she was but who would be the one to see to bringing back that luster was up for debate. In the meantime, the bottle had mysteriously disappeared.
Here goes one of my brilliant ideas into action, not on hairstyling 101, I liked the girl for a million different reasons, not because of her hair. My idea was to offer the little piece of fabric I had to patch the Mistress' pocket where the bottle had somehow fallen through. I was beginning to understand I can't always fix things but there were still ways to be of help. It may not be needed but like the little swatch it was there if anyone ever did. Enough little swatches given by all made a quilt or something like Joseph's coat, colorful, beautiful, useful.
After everyone else had turned in for the night, it was the kaiila Mistress that still watched over the camp, keeping the fire fed with little chips. The conversation began about some nut and honey layered pastries I'd made. They had been thrown together quickly over a fire and were by no means pretty. I wasn't even sure if they were edible but it all spun new plans for the future. Funny how that happens sometimes. We spoke of how he liked honey and maybe when I made more she could take some to him. Just not tell him I made them.
You love him don't you? Right to the core of things. What was there to say? She understood the silent nod. We spoke of how I came to her family and why, how I kept my distance now not because it made anything easier for me but that I didn't want to add any more pain or hurt.
It cut deep to hear her say that perhaps the boy was my destiny. It was not the destiny that I wanted, would I accept the responsibilities I'd been given .. yes. But don't tell me it is my destiny. Destiny ... that word makes my teeth grit together now. Fate, Destiny, the skies .. call it what you will but I have no fondness for its insertion of it's will over ours. I may be the kettle calling the pot black for my own slipshod patch job.
I was worried however, about watching over him. Could I manage to hurt him too? What if I made some big miserable mistake and it caused him pain? She tried to put away my fears by saying she thought I was the best thing that had ever happened to the boy. That in the walled cities, they had nannies .. someone that looked after the children, that it sounded like what was doing.
When the topic turned again, I already knew that there had been a little red headed waif addition around the wagons. It was hard not to notice when a Master .. even one only wagon wheel tall appraises you like a ripe tomato. She mentioned he would be there with us for a little while. I knew and I understood. I'd heard. It was another part of the concern that lined the women's faces ... another that they loved and cared for.
We were all little patches woven together.
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