Quiet

A frigid wind blows through the tree tops. A whisper gently in your ear, about the heavens, the earth, and far away places in-between. To feel a gaze from your emerald eyes once more; to hear that silken accent again. You’re love in my heart; it goes without saying. Your memory is haunting, a close mirage. I loath the sorrowful nostalgia I now bear. I dream of days when we were sun soaked.

Next Chapter: Sail