Love letter # 430

It is in the bittersweet beauty of autumn that I return. The crisp azure of early afternoon, the honey gold linger of evening, the aromatic chill of dusk. In such air I once stood beside you. Almost touched you. Your dark eyes a fire inside me.

Then a blink. Followed by years. The long distance of your promise. The marathon of my desire. Now, another autumnal turn; literal and figurative.  Your tresses are shorn. Blown away like the last wisps of summer. The high season of time. You and I in bloom.

These miles I cannot cross, save with the fleetness of love. In the wistful cinema of imagining, there you flicker. Star of the fall. Translucent siren, your song a trail of echoes, hollowed into waves, moving through me still. I surrender and am uplifted, so that I might be set down near to you.

 

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