October 9, 2012
Summer air,

Thick and sweet,
Stirs slightly in the trees.
Your hand gently strokes my hair,

As you whisper sweet words,
Into my memory.
The hours quickly,

Each rare kiss sweeter than the last.
How sorrowful to think,

That this is a dream,
And one day – all our love may become,

Nothing but a reverie of the past.

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