The Rosamond Muse

Rena was my grandfather’s muse, as well as the muse his two artistic grandchildren. Rena and Royal never met, but he spotted her in Eminence. Here is an exert from Ravola of Thunder Mountain by Royal Reuben Rosamond. We never met him. He was cast out of his family. He dedicated books to his four daughters in hope they never give up on him. He died, and was buried in a unmarked grave. One dark evening, she came out of a doorway and asked if she could walk with me.

Jon

“I met her in Eminence this morning. I never beheld another such being. She is like the beautiful notes of an organ with all the stops subdued. You see by this that the very implication of her is wonderful. She’ll stand fully six feet tall in her bare heels and this means that, in high heals, she can pick up a shingle and mend leak in most Ozark cabins. She can look down on most men. Her figure if that of a model, rivaling even the dreams, I vow, of the artists of ancient Greece. Her perfect body needs no no adornment in exquisite , clinging garments. Her features have class; her complexion is pink and healthful, her air of grandeur is almost appalling, cowing most men with her sheer superiority. Her eyes large and luminous, deep chestnut, are thrilling, but not come hither. Those great and beautiful orbs seem seem to be a lover’s moon rising over the horizon of her lower lashes. Yes she is temptation, her generous lips and full mouth the last straw to break a mans resistance, She’s exotic and provocative in the same wondrous breath, made but for the arms of a man, made to love and be loved. Have I describe her?”

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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