He says, "Keats for my Keats. Look inside."
I gently open the cover. Inside, written in pencil,is an old inscription.

1903, To my love.
-S

Underneath is more pencil, written in Brooklyn's neat print.

Even Keats speaks of chaos.
There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.

All my love,
B

Auteur: Jillian Dodd

He says, "Keats for my Keats. Look inside."<br />I gently open the cover. Inside, written in pencil,is an old inscription.<br /><br />1903, To my love.<br />-S<br /><br />Underneath is more pencil, written in Brooklyn's neat print.<br /><br />Even Keats speaks of chaos.<br />There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.<br /><br />All my love,<br />B - Jillian Dodd



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