The Sub-Editor - Pomegranate Seeds And A Blow Torch

POMEGRANATE SEEDS AND A BLOW TORCH

Her sadness didn't last long.

She said: 

'Spring returned, and with it her sanity

The girl who'd mistaken herself for Persephone.

'The girl who'd mistaken herself for Penelope
Managed, at last, to conquer her melancholy.'

I had just returned, once again, from my wanderings. 

As we sat, late at night, at the kitchen table I said: 'something is different. I think you're more stable. You are more like your old self - if I may dare.  Or have you, perhaps, just altered your hair?'

She said:

'It all began with a bang to the head. 

She decided to top-out, but just missed the ledge.

'As she hit the ground, she thought "what the hell?"

She'd failed to live this life very well.

'She'd been sick as a dog and too full of sadness;

At times, it has felt like a terrible madness.

'As she hit the ground she thought "what will it be?

I'm so tired of all this anxiety".

She paused, then said:

'And, the joke is on me.
From the day I was born I abhorred conventionality.'

Apparently, at that point the pomegranate seed that had been lodged in her throat, dislodged itself (and stuck to her coat).

And, my advice:

Use a blow torch to eliminate any seeping.  If you dry the wall you probably won't fall. And, then, you can stop all that weeping.

The Sub-Editor - Paradise Place

PARADISE PLACE

She said:

'You saw me as I walked towards you; you, standing there on the bridge.  I saw you, too, and I envied you. You stood so tall and you had it all. You lived your life to the full.'

She said:

'And me, I have the summer and spring. Autumn and winter are cold. I'm told I, too, should live to the full. But, just give me the underworld.'