I Was Just Thinking
We carry on in our correspondence as light hearted fellows, belly up and bottles down.
With a connection that has stood the test of elements, through high and low tides, across golden rays and rain.
I find no need to count the rows when your sails, smooth over seas and fence posts jut higher than my barbs. You hold the anchor to my prairie winds, with a hand that grasps thunder, before lightning can illuminate the moon.
And your fingers tousle the hair on the frost of morning, while your embrace captures the soul singing, of a singular dove.
Yes, it's true....
That here, with all things impossible, it is possible for a heart to cease to exist, without the magic of a stranger.
With a connection that has stood the test of elements, through high and low tides, across golden rays and rain.
I find no need to count the rows when your sails, smooth over seas and fence posts jut higher than my barbs. You hold the anchor to my prairie winds, with a hand that grasps thunder, before lightning can illuminate the moon.
And your fingers tousle the hair on the frost of morning, while your embrace captures the soul singing, of a singular dove.
Yes, it's true....
That here, with all things impossible, it is possible for a heart to cease to exist, without the magic of a stranger.
41-45, F
