Don't mess with the Korean seamstress

Today I found myself in the urgent need to have an alteration made to an old courdroy jacket.

Now before you ask, why am I even wearing a courdroy jacket, 1965 called it wants my fashion sense back.
It so happens that it is actually quite a good coat that just needs to be taken in.

Hey, don't hate a fella for trying out some far out sartorial choices.

So after shopping around for the right tailor, I came across this dry cleaner which is run by quite a dragon lady.

As soon as I walked in, I could sense her disdain for me for some unknown reason.

There she was, Miss Kwan, curly salt and pepper hair, golden reading glasses with long shinny chains dangling from her sides as though the regalia of a dowager empress. And she certainly was one, on her turf, in her realm, ruling over those who worked there and those who came into her store as courtiers to her audience.

I said hello as I approached the counter, placing my coat in front of her and waiting for her to acknowledge me.

She rose up from her perched stool, with the haughtiness befitting only in her mind, and deigned to address me as I began to tell her about my coat and how I wanted her to alter it.

Mind you, I had taken this said coat to another place but didn't like the way they would have worked on it.

So when I showed her the coat with all it's previous pins still intact, she guessed where I had been and immediately proceeded to straighten me out.

As I was in the process of telling her what to do, she told me in no uncertain terms, " I have done this before many times". I told her to take it easy and laughed at her bemusement and unflattering stand of me.

This did not go well with the Queen.

She proceeded to rattle at me the charge that I had promised to bring this a while ago.

I was simply surprised that she actually remembered.

After the customary haggling that my daddy taught me, we had come to a mutual agreement.

Suffice to say, i look forward to debut in my brown courdroy jacket.

Hopefully there aren't any daggers hidden in the sleeves.

A thousand faces, a thousand places

A thousand faces, a thousand places, a thousand times I see them

None come close to evoke what I feel for you.

How you stumble upon words, and then say what you have to.
How you murmur to yourself things before saying them out loud.

How you shy away and become self conscious when I make fun of you teasingly.

I came to you, full of sorrow and a heavy heart, 
Your touch was the cure to all my ails.

And I am now happy, until I part from you, for I long for you again.

And I shall love you from afar...

And I shall love you from afar.

Through the fogs of memories and distance.

Through pains of wrath, through bursts of joy.

Through times of anguish, through spells of grace,

Through moon lit nights, Through star less darkness

True, you shine brightest and burn me with your gaze and passionate embrace.

I cannot return back to how the ways were between us, the lovers, once as one, now rent asunder,

A thousand times a thousand nights I cried myself to sleep for you.

But perhaps just perhaps, you may remember and return.

I love waking up next to you

The warmth of your skin, 

your body next to mine, our souls intertwined,

still slightly inebriated on last night's red wine,

I love waking up next to you.

I count the goosebumps on your arms, 

with all your mischief and charms,

I forget all my inhibitions and disarm, 

as I lay by your side, watching you sleep, 

your hands holding mine, 

I love waking up next to you.

The winter nights are long and cold,

I lose my breath as I behold,

the beauty and grace which you possess, 

I must confess, 

makes me fall for you ever more. 

I love waking up next to you.