A panorama of the world. One seems enchanted in a land of dreams
Come, come away. I ask no better trail than this;
Thy voice, thy love, thy hand in mind, thy kiss.
“It’s beautiful,” Karl whispered. “Do you think I’ll ever meet your grandfather?”
“Yes. He knows all about you.”
“But he left out a lot of things a realist like myself would have included,” Marian said with a sigh. “That’s the trouble with being a poet. What would rhyme with broken ankles or shredded pants!”
“I suppose,” Marian went on, as she cautiously tried to change her position, “you’ve sharpened a carload of pencils to carry on and maybe even snatch the mantle from your grandfather!”
Embarrassed, Judy muttered, “I’ve never been able to write even a jingle!”
She impulsively put her hand on Marian’s. “I know how you must feel, all that pain and probably starving too. Why don’t you lay your head on my lap—you tell her, Karl! That rock must be cutting ridges in her scalp!”
Marian took the proffered hand. “Why stop at the scalp?” she said lightly. “I’m certain it’s penetrated deep below the bony structure. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the brain was in danger! At least it certainly feels addled. No thanks, Judy dear, I’ll stay as I am. Besides, one pain offsets another. I didn’t know I was hungry until you mentioned it.”