Post #205700 by Satan's Sin on Wed, Jan 4, 2006 3:31 PM

*He was my North, my South, my East and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.*

W.H. Auden

So very, very sorry. Please take care.