She reminds me of well-written song lyrics.
—the type that break my heart.
She reminds me of the innocence of childhood.
—small feet, giggles and deep, soft naps.
She reminds me of the rain.
—the slow, misty, erotic type calling to me
in a gentle, sensuous voice.
She reminds me of the snow.
—full curvy mounds and valleys like
a shapely woman’s body.
And, she reminds me of love.
—that all-consuming, fire-like, a passion that
can overwhelm you with a volcanic frenzy.
But mostly, she reminds me of fall.
—the season of color, of passage. The season
that proves the circle will be unbroken.
The season of harvest — the season of my life.
We have memories, she and I.
Memories of one time, and
one
night.
—the type that break my heart.
She reminds me of the innocence of childhood.
—small feet, giggles and deep, soft naps.
She reminds me of the rain.
—the slow, misty, erotic type calling to me
in a gentle, sensuous voice.
She reminds me of the snow.
—full curvy mounds and valleys like
a shapely woman’s body.
And, she reminds me of love.
—that all-consuming, fire-like, a passion that
can overwhelm you with a volcanic frenzy.
But mostly, she reminds me of fall.
—the season of color, of passage. The season
that proves the circle will be unbroken.
The season of harvest — the season of my life.
We have memories, she and I.
Memories of one time, and
one
night.
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