Eyes Full of Light
and Laughter
A book of intimacies.
24 love stories by John Caedan

In a cynical, jaded age,
is love sublime – or a delusion?
Free samples
Purchase at Amazon
Order direct
no CC or prepay required

We still say "I love you."
We still say it, it's not out of date.
Love may grow – or go.
"It hurts, so awful, so much,
and it's so beautiful,"
say lovers everywhere.
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e-mail correspondence
john@johncaedan.com
    “You made our precious daughter walk?”
    “It’s only half a mile,” she said.
    “Let me guess. She wanted you to drive
her but drop her a few hundred yards
away from the party?”
    His wife nodded, showing her best wise
smile to him. He laughed.
    “By the power of parties with boys, thereby shall time for the old ones alone be duly and surely granted. May they make the most of it.”
    She seemed to think that perfectly droll, judging by her smiling eyes.
    “Oh, we are old, aren’t we,” she intoned, coming close and slowly unbuttoning her sweater.
    “Ancient.”
    She reached the bottom button but left the garment in place. Her hand bent gracefully up behind her neck and undid her hair with a small tug on a ribbon. Its deep black thickness spilled about her shoulders. She shook it to make it fall out to the last strand. In the hush of their bedroom this act made a sound, the softest whisper imaginable, like the sifting and settling of dust shaken from the moon when hearts pull on it from earth.


         J o h n   C a e d a n    [home]
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no CC or prepay required
Eyes Full of Light and Laughter
A book of intimacies. 24 love stories.

In a cynical, jaded age,
is love sublime – or a delusion?
Free samples here.
Purchase at Amazon here.
Order direct here.
no CC or prepay required

We still say "I love you."
We still say it, it's not out of date. Love may grow – or go. "It hurts, so awful, so much, and it's so beautiful,"
say lovers everywhere.
tumblr | facebook | goodreads
e-mail correspondence john@johncaedan.com
    “You made our precious daughter walk?”
    “It’s only half a mile,” she said.
    “Let me guess. She wanted you to drive
her but drop her a few hundred yards
away from the party?”
    His wife nodded, showing her best wise
smile to him. He laughed.
    “By the power of parties with boys, thereby shall time for the old ones alone be duly and surely granted. May they make the most of it.”
    She seemed to think that perfectly droll, judging by her smiling eyes.
    “Oh, we are old, aren’t we,” she intoned, coming close and slowly unbuttoning her sweater.
    “Ancient.”
    She reached the bottom button but left the garment in place. Her hand bent gracefully up behind her neck and undid her hair with a small tug on a ribbon. Its deep black thickness spilled about her shoulders. She shook it to make it fall out to the last strand. In the hush of their bedroom this act made a sound, the softest whisper imaginable, like the sifting and settling of dust shaken from the moon when hearts pull on it from earth.