Saturday, December 16, 2017

Banked fires

We were young, then, and everything was new.

We laughed as ran through the rain, jumping into puddles. 
Your splashes went the farthest.

Like children we danced, the taste of rain upon our skin.

Now, we are old, and even memories fade. Even so, I see the gathering clouds.

Come, take my hand, shall we dance once more in the rain?

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