... For Home Is A Magnet That

Hope's One Thing, Expectation's Quite Another.

His Words Had Tossed The Book That Was Her Life Into The Air And The Pages Had Been Blown Into Disarray, Could Never Be Put Back Together To Tell The Same Story.

The Happiest Folk Are Those That Are Busy, For Their Minds Are Starved Of Time To Seek Out Woe.

And Then He Was Kissing Her, And She Was Struck By His Nearness, His Solidity, His Smell. It Was Of The Garden And The Earth And The Sun. When Cassandra Opened Her Eyes, She Realized She Was Crying. She Wasn't Sad, Though, These Were The Tears Of Being Found, Of Having Come Home After A Long Time Away.

Doors Lead To Things And I've Never Met One I Haven't Wanted To Open.