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The Witch’s Ward, that’s who. She lived in a cream-coloured castle surrounded by a brown moat, for quite some time, walking around in brown Georgia font… Then she ran away.

A couple of years later, home called, and she came back, but home had changed. All those words she had left had been lost. She was willing to pay for abandoning them.

Then the elf wrote to her, “I have your lost words…” He also told her of this place, where she could come and live… [Running out of euphemisms, better stop this.]

So here I am, and I think I’m here to stay…


In beginning there was the word. Of course, there always is.
Then, there were a lot more. And more.
Then they stopped, don’t ask me why. You really don’t want to know.
And then?

Time went by, and there was nostalgia. That too, is always there.
I had enough of staring into space, dreamy-eyed, saying,
“I once had a blog…”, and the rest of it, and sighing.
Lost words, they make me sad.

I woke up, this morning, looked out into the day,
And thought, “I have more words, even though the old are lost.”
I’m inspired today. I’m getting intriguing ideas,
On what I could do with numbers.
I’ll log out and follow them up right now,
The words, I promise will keep coming.

Update: And the words are no longer lost, thanks to an elvish friend! 🙂

May 2007
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