So you think you’re a poet? Then prove it. Remind me of a fabulous memory of earth. Say something that causes me to want to stay alive. He felt that a little over the top but she’d always been possessed with the flair. He itched his brain and found a dream: Lorca was right, your lips are blurred dawn. I first noticed that the morning you strained our son into this world, and said Oh dahling. She smiled for he proved himself sufficient yet again. She curtsied, then took his hand and they walked on in their aging affection, her wannabe poet and his favorite actress.