Do you think Dorothy Parker knew Jacob in a past life?
I laughed so much this morning over coffee and Baileys while I read this out loud that I can be left with no other conclusion. It's all in jest though, because I wouldn't trade him for the world, but darn it if I don't see him all over this poem.
My own dear love, he is strong and bold
And he cares not what comes after.
His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is jubilant as a flag unfurled
Oh, a girl, she'd not forget him.
My own dear love, he is all my world,
And I wish I'd never met him.
My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet,
And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And the skies are sunlit for him.
As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As the fragrance of acacia.
My own dear love, he is all my dreams,
And I wish he were in Asia.
My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
He'll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathway of the morrows.
He'll live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart,
And I wish somebody'd shoot him.
And to think, as I learn about Dorothy, I had no idea she was the author of a quote I use all the time, Brevity is the soul of lingerie. And little did I realize exactly how much we have in common. Somewhat fascinating and eerie all at once.
You can take a whore to culture, but you can't make her think.
Indeed.
