07-31-2008, 02:01 AM
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Me too. 
Kansas was usually soft-spoken, conscious of what he said around others. But he was more worried about sounding like an idiot to Savina than he had ever been to anyone else, even Naniko (perhaps because he’d known her since he was very small). The girl before him was so just so... alluring, with her soft Italian voice and warm, pretty face. It was almost like he wanted more than anything to preserve this - whatever this was. Acquaintanceship.
He wasn’t surprised that she knew so little about literature. Kansas didn’t think it was common to pass time reading; he did so when there was nothing else to do, and he did spend a lot of time alone. Still, he was certainly no expert; Naniko had simply taught him the basics. He was so glad that Savina asked what he'd meant; he hastened to give the best explanation he could. Well, it’s like a story. But instead of paragraphs and sentences, it’s lines like… like this. He ran a finger absently down the poem. Sometimes poetry rhymes, sometimes it doesn’t.
His heart began to beat much faster when she eased a bit closer; he sort of feared she could hear it. Even though it was humid out, having her near to him during this rainstorm felt very… cozy. He liked it. Yeah, I’d love to. Uh, hmm… He gave a small laugh. Kansas had been hoping she’d aske; he really wanted to share one of the poems with her. He found one that was not quite so long, and one he had liked. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d be able to read the poem without stumbling too much in his nervousness.
“From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were, I have not seen
As others saw, I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life, was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still.
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.”
When he finished, he looked down at his hands on the book for a moment, then stole a glance over at her with a shy smile.
Kansas was usually soft-spoken, conscious of what he said around others. But he was more worried about sounding like an idiot to Savina than he had ever been to anyone else, even Naniko (perhaps because he’d known her since he was very small). The girl before him was so just so... alluring, with her soft Italian voice and warm, pretty face. It was almost like he wanted more than anything to preserve this - whatever this was. Acquaintanceship.
He wasn’t surprised that she knew so little about literature. Kansas didn’t think it was common to pass time reading; he did so when there was nothing else to do, and he did spend a lot of time alone. Still, he was certainly no expert; Naniko had simply taught him the basics. He was so glad that Savina asked what he'd meant; he hastened to give the best explanation he could. Well, it’s like a story. But instead of paragraphs and sentences, it’s lines like… like this. He ran a finger absently down the poem. Sometimes poetry rhymes, sometimes it doesn’t.
His heart began to beat much faster when she eased a bit closer; he sort of feared she could hear it. Even though it was humid out, having her near to him during this rainstorm felt very… cozy. He liked it. Yeah, I’d love to. Uh, hmm… He gave a small laugh. Kansas had been hoping she’d aske; he really wanted to share one of the poems with her. He found one that was not quite so long, and one he had liked. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d be able to read the poem without stumbling too much in his nervousness.
“From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were, I have not seen
As others saw, I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life, was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still.
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.”
When he finished, he looked down at his hands on the book for a moment, then stole a glance over at her with a shy smile.