Redacted

In my dreams I held you as though you were mine. which surprised me when I woke up, about as much as it surprises you now.

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace. Ecclesiastes 3:1‭-‬8 NLT https://bible.com/bible/116/ecc.3.1-8.NLT

It's always July that makes me think of love. Never June. Rather it's the sound of the cicadas And the sweet smell of summer grass hot after the sun scorched day which is burned on my skin. As the mist rises up to obscure the end of evening, I walk content to breathe it in. Smiling 

I wish I remembered you.

By what is missing you learn what not to be.

https://youtu.be/ dN44xpHjNxE

Smiles linger at the warmth of you, those small ways I hold on, far memories fought for. Yes. You should know they still sing in my mind.  When I remember.  Don't you recall?     Do you ever chase the memories? The young? The old? Those small ways Life shared with us But we weren't ever, except you never knew how that hoped And, Now, what was that? Hmm? I don't recall. My thoughts of time are gone a ghosted smile Of which I have no memory.

Memories again. Make them happy ones this time.

https://youtu.be/rQWZK5U233s

Reading through old files and ran across these old beauties this evening.  I like the sense and emotion of them.  Thankful for true strokes of inspiration occasionally.

Deep inside all of us is that nervously insecure twelve year old who's still scared of being laughed at for all the wrong reasons.

What if I'm waiting for something that never happens?

Lost memories keep me warm in the scent and smell of you I found in this old sweater.  And suddenly this frosty morning i s alive in the quiet of this early solitude where my breath curls frozen in the air.

I needed a muse and you were it For a while. Sorry. maybe. because How could you see around it to the real me? Convenient way to Block Everything. Not knowing. Not thinking. Dumb. Ignorant. feelings.

I've been meaning to say... But that's old history To which nobody is interested in listening.