30 April 2014


I want to write. I need to write.  I've not done a great deal of it of late. I've gotten a few words down recently, but it's not how I want the words to flow, to be released, to be.

And it is frustrating.

I want the words to come, floating like the blossom that is falling from the trees. And they don't.

And I think of you. And how you left on the same breeze, fading into the distance, like the blossom blown away and never to return.  Now I know why they name hurricanes. They leave their mark, their name. Their force and strength.

I wonder what we would have named you.


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