Heavy rain comes and goes, pausing briefly as to provide
some relief as I stroll again a landscape that reminds me of her, old buildings
pressed up against new, painting gray by a moody day as gray as she must me.
I have no vision of her other than that impressed upon me on
the oft chance she posts a picture of who she is now, when I envision her of
who I remember, images of a past that has long ceased to be except as a dream,
the remake of a reality impressed on my retina, too void of details to fully be
real, and yet, it is what I cherish, the face I see when I close my eyes to
sleep, the person I knew back then, when the person she is now remains a
stranger.
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