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Aeja Marie Pinto Aug 2016
Isn't it odd how so much can change with just one breath. One blow of the wind; and everything seems to crumble.

Isn't it funny how you don't even realize how many pages are left, yet when you turn the page; the chapter just seems to end. 
Most of the time, it ends mid-sentence. Abrupt and inconclusive; almost as if the last pages were ripped out, or as if the author forgot to etch in the remaining chapters; the final words.

Isn't it odd how one day the sun is shining so bright that you can't even fathom the mere thought of a cloud in the sky, but when you arise the next morning, you wake to rain falling in a steady pattern; 
drumming it's fingers agains your window.

Isn't it funny how you always remember the beginning, yet always seem to forget uttering the unfamiliar goodbye; 
How you can't even seem to remember the words forming against your lips?

What's an ending or a goodbye when you can't even remember to cry?

Days later, looking back, you wander into a perpetual state of wonder. 
The thought always rising to your mind.

Funny how change blows in with the turn of a season. It seems to blow into town, carried with the wind; it seems to push your hair back, and whisper in your ear;
 It wishes you were here... 

I wander to wonder, and I wonder to wander these things, turning them in my mind. 


& as the leaves changed, so did I.
Aeja Marie Pinto Jul 2016
The waves toss.
The wind blows messages unheard of, creating distance.
The wave feels mischievous, and tries to force itself on the shore.
But, eventually the tide rolls in, and out.
Drifting apart.
The waves have failed.
It would have had to have been mutual for the wave to stay kissing the shore. But, kissing the shore doesn't always last. Sometimes we all have to drift away.
The wave misses the shore. But, I guess that's just how the world works.
Still, the wave continues to seep to the shore, remembering all the good times, while drowning out all else.

Maybe it's like people.  Some stay kissing the shore coming as driftwood or seaweed, yet others drift apart coming as the tide.
The wind blows, whispering secrets in my ear.

The waves toss, and with them, a new beginning rolls in...

— The End —