&

Waking from a dream of walking hand-in-hand, but not before he touches my cheek.
A restful nap, a step outside, a "return-to-sender" in my mailbox.
The day grows somber, shrouded in literature, working through numbers in my head.
Carving memories from glimpses of the past and traces of the future.
Hopes spanning wider than the sky for all that is to come.
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When I reach that place
All there will be left to say is
I love you and I know
That You've always been there.