Pictorial Prose dances to the rhythm of the soul and the magic of nature. Each day is a journey through life and with it a view of the wonder and joy of the heart and mind with an explosion of passion and desire. The opposite of to live is to ...
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Prose
The Eastern Red Bud drapes the surrounding hills, its razzle, dazzle color complements the accompanied golden fields. Surreal the explosion of spring time everywhere, stirs the imagination to dream you standing here. I reached out to the image to find it wasn’t real; it faded and burst like a bubble floating in the air. My heart cried out to you to listen to the wind, I sent my words of love to touch you from within. Standing here alone my arms folded across my chest, envisage of memory struggled, surfacing through the self created mess. Sorting through it all on this mystical day, our souls discovered the magic to make the miles dissipate.
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