Where the grasses blow

If there must be wind, let there also be long grasses that make play of it.


Monday, April 7, 2014

Alexandra

When will I sit and write the words to our story? Words, like fireflies, that light me from within in their flutter of happiness. Good words. For now I"ll let those words pluck my cells. For now I want to feel them gayly within.
" You must come for me; you must find me, " I'd said to her.
 I knew she would when I looked into her eyes.
My Alexandra.


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