User talk:Maulkin

Sharp sunlight pierced down from above trying to break through the dark glasses, grey death curling up sluggishly from the cigarette dropping from a relaxed hand. A small sharp clink as a delicate porcelain cup is gently laid down on a saucer, its warm amber liquid lapping gently at its edges trying to climb out of its prison. Rustling as the thick novel is picked up again, bit by bit, almost as if it’s too heavy to bother with lifting, pages ruffled by the cool crisp wind that threatens to steal the heat that the sun struggles to convey to its admirer.

Greetings.Sorry for the intrusion.Nice poem.(I hope it is a poem though.)--User753-Talk- 03:12, 21 May 2012 (CDT)

Not really sure what it is yet, just thought of it while on my way to a lecture.

I see,thanks.Now it looks like a beautifully described situation on a novel script.--User753-Talk- 00:49, 23 May 2012 (CDT)