Thursday, April 17, 2008

Yours, Yours, Yours...........

Abigail: I live like a nun in a cloister solitary, celibate, I hate it, and you, John?
Adams: I live like a monk in an abbey. Ditto, ditto, I hate it
Abigail: Write to me with sentimental effusion. Let me revel in romantic illusion
Adams: Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air? And is my favorite lover's pillar still firm and fair?
Abigail: What was there, John, still is there, John. Come soon as you can to my cloister. I've forgotten the feel of your hand
Adams: Madam we shall walk in Cupid's Grove together
Both: And we'll fondly survey that promised land. Till then, till then I am as I ever was and ever was And ever shall be, Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours
Abigail: Saltpeter, John

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