So dear to me I can’t begin to tell you
So precious to me every word you speak
So necessary to my heart’s well-being
So strong where other men are weak
So perfect is love’s magic circle
So safely we abide within
So that the world may only envy
So that the world may never enter in
Born in a small, Illinois log cabin . . . No, that won’t work. The pampered only child of incredibly wealthy parents . . . No, that won’t fly either. Raised by French nuns after her aristocratic parents were beheaded . . . No, that’s been done! Got it: An East Coast transplant to the Pacific Northwest, this notoriously late bloomer began her new life with a new career as a writer and blogger. She has taken to both the new location and the career move like a duck to water. Writing is a new adventure, and our intrepid risk-taker is diving in, feeling right at home and making new friends. Reached for comment, she replied, “Okay, I wrote my bio, now may I Please go out and play?” We expect great, or perhaps merely more coherent, things from this writer. (Okay, that’s a wrap. What a wacko!)
So dear to me I can’t begin to tell you
Pacificmelody's Blog 
May 15, 2011 at 12:14 pm
Beautifully said. Amazing to be part of. A miracle to feel. Singularly rare to experience.
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May 15, 2011 at 12:21 pm
Yes, it was. I’ll always have that, as will you, I suspect.
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May 15, 2011 at 2:12 pm
Some times silence is the loudest applause. You have left me in silence
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May 15, 2011 at 7:35 pm
Thank you, Dan, I can hardly ever do that to another writer!
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May 15, 2011 at 7:08 pm
Intimacy is so special.
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May 15, 2011 at 11:14 pm
It can be the whole world!
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