the seasons are like lovers...they are individuals, but cannot help the occasional embrace to ensure the other that they are not far. but there are also times when all we are left with is distance and the wind...and we are hopeful of that gust that brings the scent of a loved on nearer. at that moment we cannot help but wonder what the other is doing. praying. soaking in silence. or perhaps watching the clouds and wondering if i, too, am wishing on that cloud...as we both used to do when we were children. i don't know the intricate working of the neural pathways that trigger my fond memories of summer and my parent's home, but my concern is not with the inner workings of beings, but rather with how we can once again become one with one another.
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