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...for Irma

Haunting winds blow through my mind, bringing shadows of things that once were; a peace of mind untold, now but dust blowing in the winds of today, the cold, keening, lonely winds of today... The swirling winds evoke memories I thought were but dreams--would have been dreams, but for her... Even now, I can see her soft summer radiance, sense her delicate spring fragrance, and hear her laughter soft as falling snow... Is it a dream? Did I once hold her, and tell her of my love? Did I once kiss her, feel her near me for one eternal moment? The cold, lonely winds answer me, for they too miss her faery form, her breathless abandon, and her happy laughter... and now I, and the wind, are haunted by our hollow memories, all we have left of--her... Thundering surf crashes on the dark and distant shore, swept by swirling winds, mantled by ebon night, companion of my soul... The hungry waves consume my wandering imprints, but the ache in my heart is not food for surf and wind; only for my haunted memory... Silent clouds drift overhead, lone stars peer down at me, and I welcome them, distant though they be... Cold mists brush my forehead, but do not solace me, for I still remember a breathless moment, a wondrous moment, and my heart cries out to the skies--but there is no answer... Once before I walked the beach at night, with the wind, the surf-- and her... The cool waters swirled at our feet, and the mists refreshed us and soothed our sunburnt faces... Now, the stars, the cold steel stars peer down at me and wonder, as does my heart, why I am alone, so alone, with but the surf, and the cold cold wind... the cold, haunting wind... Golden leaves swirl in autumn breezes as I walk paths of long ago in corridors of delicate memory... Once again she walks with me, and is mine to hold, to cherish, to love in ruby sunsets that set world and sky aflame... We walk in gentle rains, under canopies of emerald leaves glistening with myriad diamonds of scintillating light, and dance, dance to the delicate music of the rain, the delicate, faery music of the falling rain... The moonlight glistening in her soft hair, shining in her eyes; the starlight nights of majestic splendor when we danced and loved beneath the sparkling sky; and the quiet hours spent strolling hand in hand along the moonlit beach, and the eternal moments we shared our love... And, like the morning mists, she was gone, gone from my arms, my life; and now I find her only in my memories-- A delicate, beautiful dream-- A delicate, beautiful, beautiful dream... T. GhostWolf Davidson, December 12, 1972

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