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[personal profile] tamlin_kitsune
so, today is [livejournal.com profile] sorrowsflower 's birthday.  She's been working her tail off as at the hospital lately and if how she manages that level of stress and dedication I'll never know.  But she's amazing and frazzled and it's her birthday - which means presents!  Happy birthday, sweetheart.  I wanted to give you something sweet and peaceful and I hope this helps.

His world

He watches the rain
Not through the glass of the window
But instead he watches its reflection
Against her pale skin as she sleeps.

He watches the sun
Not with eyes on the sky
But instead he watches the way it
Catches in her hair when she turns suddenly to look at him.

He watches the moon
Not by the shadows it casts on the wooden floor once the lights are gone
But instead he watches it fill the hollows
Of her collarbone and wonders if trapped light has a taste.

He watches the world
Not by the rushing blur it gives him as it unwinds in front of his eyes
But instead he watches it in every shade and shadow and point of light
That shows over her quietly expressive face.

Date: 2011-08-03 01:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sorrowsflower.livejournal.com
Oh, Tam you darling, darling angel, how is it that you always, always know just what to do to make me feel awesome? This was just amazing (the verses and the pic), and it is just what I need to get me through the toxicity. It's sweet and heartbreakingly gentle and introspective and insightful and just sooo Cloud. It's just the way I think Cloud would see things. I love all of the CloTi snugglies you send me, especially this and the last one (speaking of snugglies, I already sent you my last; that one took a long time coming; hope you got it).

Date: 2011-08-09 10:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kitsune13-tam.livejournal.com
I am so, so very glad I could make you happy. You so often make me that way when I get an email in my box and know it's from you. I'm also pleased the fic went over well. It was a lot of fun to write since I don't usually get the urge to be a poet. There can never been enough Cloti snuggles. Never ever.


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