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The troubled mind is filled with weightlessness as the breeze wanders into the window, winding back hours with the heart’s compass, a reminiscent invisible glow. Wishful hopes which constantly meander since the saunter along the shore in dawn with the decoration of a zephyr, similar in spurring feelings foregone. And although the wind may be whimsical, in it, 'tis perfection I can picture framed within edges of the ethereal and there, remains beauty with no barrier. The breeze brings memories of you to me, a reverie I hope someday will be. |