"Petite Fleur" 'Little Flower' - by Giovanni (Piano Version).
Observe! The Light Between Us! Just before our lips meet.
Once aga-a-a-a-in! By Autocratic spousal dema-a-a-a-nd! Kitche-e-e-e-n Boss-a-a-a-Tango/Waltzin-n-n-n-g! Like you have never seen it BEFO-O-O-RE!

To the accompanying aroma of cooking "Spaghetti Aglio e Olio!"
Donna arises from her seat at the kitchen counter . . . Drifts and swirls toward me . . . Demanding . . .
"ALLORA! FRANCO! BALLA CON ME! DANZA!"  ('Come! Franco! Dance with Me! DANCE!)'
And Donna and I are off. Dancing in elegant grace, from the stove, past the refrigerator, into the lounge,
and out onto the patio. And back to the kitchen.
Check pots . . . sip of VINO! . . . And we are off again . . .
The Cover Design I created to inspire Donna to write the Book of Us. She LOVED it!

This is a Thought-Piece I wrote for Donna; A Love Letter From a Soldier to a Witch.

The Immortal Romance of The Witch and The Soldier

05 April 2008
My Dearest Witch, Donna Mia
I have wings, like Noah’s dove
I fly up the River to the One I Love

I write this in the hope that it will inspire / prompt / force you even, to start writing your story of “The Immortal Romance of The Witch and The Soldier”.

It is my heartfelt desire to drag the Truth and Imagination out of that brain of yours, by seduction, tearful begging, beseeching on my knees, ultimately intimidation,
threats of violence – and finally, brute force if necessary, to beat Our Story out of you.
And see Our Story committed to words on paper.

So! This is the story told from the vantage point of The Soldier.
GO! Enjoy my Love, My Love

Begins > A Love Letter From a Soldier to a Witch.

My dalliance with the Ineffable Witch that you are, fills my Soul with enough Love to last me all my Life. How long it has lasted. Aah! How long will it yet last?

Ah - the slow tinkle of music rising to dance in the warm evening by the sea…
I can see the night will provide all the gifts your lilting Egyptian mouth whispers to me...
and we dance...

Where does love begin? In the taste of a kiss, the color of the sea? Near where I lived and want to live again with the One that has always filled my heart.

You tell me all sorts of little meaningless things. That are neither important nor comprehensible.
All I can hear is your voice and it is the music of my Soul. I slide and swirl through your words down your throat to your Heart.
Listen to its rhythms... I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that I know you through your voice.

I just smile. Always my invincible soft smile. The sort of smile that other people attribute to the insane, or to a kind of spiritual wisdom.
A smile like your own, Donna Corazon. That is how I recognized you.
The smile of the Content Cherub Cat. To be sure though: it is the smile that comes from the secret heart of very private experience.
One like our own.

For you filled my mind with you. And you continue to place your Love, and entice my responsibility to accept,
and always recall You as Il Mio Speciale! - My Special.

The Sun is The Minute Hand -
We Have All The Time in The World

I watch you drive WOLF. The world drags.
And then, slowly, everything goes into slow motion.
And then suddenly the whole world goes into reverse - and we Fly.

And that is how I feel with you, Bella Strega. You take me flying.
I come home from work, or from shopping, from the mundane -
and I see the face of My Mistress – My Shiny Wife - My Compelling Strega Mia,
and my Heart goes racing. Almost leaps out of my chest.

You always swear you would recognize me in every way, even if you were blind. With no weapon but your desire. Your desire reflected in me is like the wind in the sails of WOLF as he makes his beastly chromatic voyage, racing across miles of open country heat.

“I promise if you stay in my life…” you said. And yes, you are still here…

“For what is real except we, each, in a life, make real for our Self?” I also wondered. Often and aloud.

There was a song: "Make It with You" recorded by the pop-rock group ‘B.R.E.A.D.’
That was in 1970. I had just left high school and started work at the Govt. Treasury Department.
You Donna Carrissima – were just eight years old – so you’ve probably never heard the song.

By that time, I had painted your face (almost), about four or five times in my
fantasy / Sci-Fi art.
As you have seen.
I was imaging you THEN!

La Contessa - As I Imagined Her

Make It with You
by B.R.E.A.D

Hey, have you ever tried
Really reaching out for the other side?
I may be climbing on rainbows
But baby, here goes

Dreams, they're for those who sleep
Life is for us to keep
And if you're wondering what this song is leading to
I want to make it with you
I really think that we could make it, girl

No, you don't know me well
In every little thing only time will tell
But you believe the things that I do
And we'll see it through
Life can be short or long
Love can be right or wrong
And if I chose the one I'd like to help me through
I'd like to make it with you
I really think that we could make it, girl...

Source: AZLyrics
Songwriters: Gates David Ashworth

One Persons “Noise”, Is Another Person’s Music.

It was a beautiful piece of lyrical song writing at the time. Still is. Schmaltzy?
Only for people who did not fall in love at the time.
We all have a piece of music that reminds us of falling in love or being in love.
And another piece that reminds us of good times and another of loves dissolution.

The song made my heart ache for a girl like you.
Oh, I had many girlfriends, and my cock got me into some tight situations. Excuse the pun ))

A Digression to Make My Point
When I started high-school in 1965, I was thirteen. Three years after you were born, Donna Ragazza.
We had a Latin teacher – one Ms. A. Zlotnik.
Very STERN! Well in hind-sight, not “stern” as COMMANDING! Domineering.
With the dismissive imperiousness as a person of royalty.
Imperial. As in from the Latin imperialis, from imperium ‘command, authority; related to imperare ‘to command’.
Statuesque as Sophia Loren, from the neck down.

But from the neck up!?
That is where all the trouble starts.
She had space-black hair in a Cleopatra hairstyle – like Elizabeth Taylor in the 1963 movie of the same name.
But it was her face and those eyes!

Like you, in this photo. Donna Mia.

Those flashing, impossibly blue eyes struck terror into the heart of every unruly, or disrespectful teenage schoolboy.
She had a lovely voice which could instantly change, as she shouted her famous:
“Have You Taken Leave Of Your SENSES???”
And bore down the asile of desks, and beat some lagard about the head with her book.

It was uncanny. She would be reading. We would be following the sentences in our books. And Ms Zlotnik would notice something...
She would begin stalking. Closing her book and reciting from memory, and our eyes followed the words in our books... and followed Ms Zlotnik, until she arrived at the desk of the hapless, recalcitrant boy.

And Then? BANG! Her book came down across his head:
“Have You Taken Leave Of Your SENSES???”

Zlotnik, as the name suggests, is of Jewish / Belorussian / Ukrainian / Polish origin.
Zlotnik derives from the occupational name for a goldsmith, Polish = zlotnik, Belorussian = zlotnik, Ukrainian = zlotnyk.
From Zloto, meaning ‘Gold’.
I discovered that the “A” in Ms. A. Zlotnik, was “Anastasia”. What a beautiful name.

Anastasia had the face of the Nefertiti bust. That slightly hooked patrician nose.

The swept eye-lashes, the arched eyebrows, the high cheek-bones, the Sophia Loren MOUTH!

Guys would have thought her “SEXY”, if they were not so terrified of her wrath, when they were either misbehaving (in the first weeks of attending her classes), OR, achieving poor grades for the five years that they would be attending her classes.

YOU! My Donna Ragazza, remind me of her. In looks and behaviour.
Beautiful to look upon, but the very Gates of Hades when sorely displeased.

It was from Anastasia Zlotnik that I learned to Respect Beauty.
In the same fashion as one respects a Tiger.
At Once, Beautiful and Dangerous.

I realised that our failure as humans, who have a propensity to want to be in love and lose love can be under-scored.....
by our failure to recognize that one persons “noise”, is another person’s music.

If people could appreciate that - they could stay in love a little longer.
Better off, not depending on depending, I figured.

You – My Bright Elusive Butterfly

... those swaying hips churn and grind without effort. Speak of ancient millennia past, and passed.
Those hips whisper all the seduction that women have told men since, well, since Eve.
They taunt, invite, challenge, whisper, beckon, cajole, beg, demand… surrender.

... lead me away from the city of my mind, thru the bazaars, and coffee shops, down some winding lane and into a place called You. In this secret garden behind the walls, to listen to you offer up your song of joy, as you dance the dance of Kali…
.. and out here on the edge of the forest in the cold morning air, the mist still rising from the river,
I listen to your breathing in my ear. I don’t want to turn and look at you. I am afraid that you will not be there for my eyes.
Ridiculous I know, with our physical entanglement as it is – how could you ever get away?

A tapestry is woven from our entanglement: one that inter-twines the thread of our separate lives into a continuum of time and space. That live or die on the back of memory…

Dust Dreams
The Sleeper slept
And dreamed that the dust got up and walked
But when the Sleeper awoke
No one told the dust

My lungs taste the air of Time
Blown past falling sand…

Times Travel
The day the flesh shapes and the flesh the day shapes
Any road followed to its end leads precisely nowhere.
Climb the mountain just a little to test that it is a mountain, for from the top of the mountain –
you cannot see the mountain.

NEXT >> Immortal Romance of the Witch & The Soldier - 2

Borbaletta in-Her Secret Garden - As I Imagined Her

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