Love

There’s a big ol’ tree growing wild in a forest (wild in a forest) in a magical land showing the future before us (the future before us). Carved in the tree, an old saying says: “take from me the moss you see, you’ll be in love for eternity!” Everyone knows that’s where mistletoe grows. Go and hang all you gather ‘bout seven feet high, grab the next pretty girl or handsome guy passing by, and kiss ‘em once or twice or whatever feels nice. If you stand beneath it with the one

I love you because you’re like a warm croissant with butter and raspberry jam. So sweet. So good. ... and a little flaky. August 17, 2020

I did not leave her because of something she did nor for anything she did not do. I do not know why I left. It has not become clear to me, even now. Perhaps I will never understand when my heart went away, how it shutdown, why it caved in. We had wonderful times? Yes. Regrets? No. Memories? Always. Fresh Spring rains, blazing Summer sun; leaves turn slowly in a comforting Autumn then, Winter freezes everything that was. So, too, my love, I suppose, were we. Some things cannot

I have a treasury of thankful memories for the life that I lived. For instance: I remember the times at our favorite café; drinking lattes and savoring croissants. So good, so sweet. Like you. Thank you. Yes, I’ll have another, please. One day, an older couple sat to our right at a nearby table (remember?); they still laughed together; still held hands. A younger couple, sat on our left, hoping, their eyes laughed, they held hands. Our story. Our life. August 17, 2020