When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising

Haply I think on thee: and then my state,

Like to the Lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate;

    For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings

    That then I scorn to change my state with Kings.


William Shakespeare

I met wendolen in the shadows of the night. She not only kept a candle lit for me, she was the candle itself. It was wendolen who gave me faith in myself once more and taught me that I could still be honestly loved.

I think I have never met anyone so in touch with their senses as she is. Listen to her talk and you not only know the sights and sounds, but you know the scents, textures and very tastes of her life. She puts me to shame as a sensualist. Where I try to incorporate the experiences of all five senses, it just comes naturally to her.

Lyrics are her form of expression. She has a song for every event, every thought. I can't imagine her without music.

And she is about the greatest friend one could hope for. Steadfast in her love, though distance and circumstances have intervened often to keep us apart, I have never felt abandon by her. We were not able to stay lovers, but I have no doubt in the endurance of our friendship.

If there was one gift I could give her, it would be to let her see herself through my eyes. Then, perhaps, she could see what a beautiful and wonderful person she is.