june

i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.

What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent.The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance.But the sensation of illusion is strong. Because the sun can break through the clouds at any moment . . .What a soft thoughtful time.In this illusory gloom, like a night-blooming flower, let your imagination bloom in a riot of color.

He's right. I can't deny it. I am the reason Day lost everything that matters to him.

I realizedJune had never beenjust a monthmusic...never just a trembleon my lipswarmth was nevermerely a blanket.

(June had drawn out every leaf on the trees. The mothers of Pimlico gave suck to their young. Messages were passing from the Fleet to the Admiralty. Arlington Street and Piccadilly seemed to chafe the very air in the Park and lift its leaves hotly, brilliantly, on waves of that divine vitality which Clarissa loved. To dance, to ride, she had adored all that.)

June has never looked more beautiful than she does now, unadorned and honest, vulnerable yet invincible.

I had a chat with May and I had a sweet talk with April but the lovely conversation that left me to ponder was the long talk I had with June. Mathematics came to tell me that May is 3, June is 4 and April is 5. _ This should have been the counting order_ Mathematics said to me, and added, if you add 3 and 5 you shall surely get 8 and if you find the mid of 8 you will get 4 which is June. Ask June why the disorder! So I quickly called June and asked, why have you change the order? June said, __y brother, in this era, you should least give men things which are in order. Let them ponder and put things in order and they will learn something better_. I had to ponder and wonder. Then June added, those who will ponder to know why I have change the order to be at the mid of the other shall get to the mid of the other and wonder why they are at the mid of the other and end the other in wonder but, those who would never see why they must ponder when they get to the mid of the other to know why I am there shall end the other in disorder. They shall end the other and wander in the end! I was quick to ask June, which other? June calmly said, the twelve disciples of the year. Disciples_? I asked. June quickly said, I mean months! In your journey of life, take a break as you journey and ponder over the journey; June concluded!

June cackled with delight, muttering, "Whoops!" as a car almost killed them.

He is beauty, inside and out.He is the silver lining in a world of darkness.He is my light.

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

June 2005 is the five year anniversary of the debut of Battle Pope.

I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April.

In June we picked the clover,And sea-shells in July:There was no silence at the door,No word from the sky.A hand came out of AugustAnd flicked his life away:We had not time to bargain, mope,Moralize, or pray.

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.

The secret island had looked mysterious enough on the night they had seen it before - but now, swimming in the hot June haze, it seemed more enchanting than ever. As they drew near to it, and saw the willow trees that bent over the water-edge and heard the sharp call of moorhens that scuttled off, the children gazed in delight. Nothing but trees and birds and little wild animals. Oh, what a secret island, all for their very own, to live on and play on.

I need to let him go.