Saturday, April 17, 2010

The echo.


Do you remember that morning?  The morning we walked along the edge of of where the sea met the sand?
I do.

When I think of that day, something within echoes, softly subtle at first; until eventually, it becomes deafening.
I can still hear the waves.

I miss that morning.
I miss the waves.
Mostly...
I miss you.

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