The Seasons

The Seasons

My memories are made of brick and cement and glass. My dreams are bathed in the waning sunlight of an autumn day. Long shadows creep over fences and pull at the sidewalk as the sun begins to set. My dreams are apples picked from trees and flat piano notes from songs I never learned how to play.

To Be So In Love

To Be So In Love

A woman said that love is freedom. That love is falling and flying and falling and catching and getting back up together. That love is not what was before, but what will be tomorrow.