Hey everyone. I was supposed to be doing an English assignment, writing about an object- but not directly revealing what the object is. I started writing about a kitchen table, but well... my thoughts were less and less about English and more about Buffy and Angel.
And what's wrong with that? :-) This is the result of my musings.
Dedication: To Sara-Lee, the real poet, I am but a mere clod of dirt. To all of my Ioniun writers, we'll make it better. To all of the BA shippers who feel lost and hurting right now. We'll all get through this together. Strong is fighting and we can fight together, my friends.

Feedback: If not for me- then for all of the great writers who keep fighting and writing for BA. They are the courageous and the worthy.
Note: I was writing this while Sarah McLachlan's MIRRORBALL was in my cd player, on loan from the library.

A prime spot for an afternoon rendezvous,
Between two lovers
Who haven't seen each other in far too long.
Everything brushed aside in the cry of passion.

A strong foundation, but feeble and weak when compared to their love.
A perch for romance, to touch and sense and be.
In a way they have not been-
Since a rainy night all those years ago.

The squeaking witness of the weight of their joining,
Happily making its noise in time with lusty thrusts.
Offering its own legs for accidental amputation,
so that they may both find happiness in the other's body.

Lost in a fire, a blaze of hatred
Its legs sadly still in place
Charred with destruction
But still remembering a day that never was

Suddenly rescued from oblivion
By pale seeking hands
Perfectly restored but quietly hidden away
In a room that no one ever goes into

Now the seat of a tiny but strong body
Warming the cold lonely surface
In a time not too long from its rescue
Waiting for her lover to catch up from their game

For so many years
Mute and deaf to the world
Now alive, speaking and listening
Squeaking happily at the cries of two lovers joining again.

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