And she had stories like sailors at sea. Sights and sounds that Ill never see and Ill never hear. Ill never know. Tired of white knuckles and cracked skin. I think its about time for the snow melt. Craving the suns rays that I've felt in July and elongating days. Push the clouds away with the back of my hand because I want nice blue skies. Attack the ice with sunlight. Summer hibernates inside us through the winter, and there is still always a piece of her inside me. Announce the weight is off my shoulders. I notice the bounce in my gait. Announce the wait is over and notice the bounce in my gait. She is stowed away but never thrown away even on the coldest of days. You melt away the marks of frigid nights, of frigid nights.
So I'll await her return - as I have done before.
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