Love he can't forget.
Ownership: I don't own any of these characters..etc
Distribution: take what you like, but ask first.
please review.
The poetry in this fic is not mine, I got it out of a book..of poetry.( "a favourite Sunnydale phrase comes to mind...DAA!")
Angel sat back in his chair. He couldn't get her off his mind, worse still he had papers to sort but he couldn't concentrate. If he could, he would have sighed by now, but breathing wasn't an option. He cast his eyes around his office, letting them fall on the notepaper and pen infront of him. He picked up the pen, looked at the notepaper and slowly pulled it towards him. Angel looked out of the window at the star-lit sky and began to write. he didn't know what he was writing, he didn't know what he hoped to accomplish by doing so. He just wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Until the phone beside him rang. Another case.
Moments after Angel had left his office, Wesley walked in. he picked up the paper left on the desk and began to read.
***I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet.
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked "What could I ail?"
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my sight away.
the trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start;
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice
And love's appeal to know,
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before:
My heart has left its dwelling place
And can return no more.***
Wesley smiled, he knew as soon as he read the first line what was on the vampire's mind. He turned the page and read on,
***How do I love thee?Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.***
Wesley returned the paper to it's palce on the desk and left the office, knowing that under his smooth, brooding appearance, Angel was hurting.
Angel returned to his office. He sat at the desk and read what he'd written, then he looked at the picture frame in the corner. The she was, his one true love, so close to him, yet so unreachable. He picked up the pen and began the long and arduous task of sorting his paperwork.