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Feb 2020
Lips brush softly
As a passing breeze
Carries a feather.
She’s leaving again,
But not forever.

A sudden silent hit
Comes to greet me
When I least expect it.

The wind swallows us
In her eternal grace,
So I try in haste
To be her home base.
Why do I keep writing love fantasies about the wind? Welp, they’re fun to write.
Ayn
Written by
Ayn  20/M/Wherever I May Roam
(20/M/Wherever I May Roam)   
53
     will19008, --- and ---
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