Drake (darkbear) wrote,

"I never breathed her name again, but I like to dream"

Life is slowing, taking that meandering flow towards the cool shade of a summer, where all lay down tired loads and sleep. Perhaps dreams come to those who slumber, or perhaps only the gentle release from the conscious tediousness of day. Somewhere through the waking dreams and fading sight we find an unsteady and shifting treaty with the flow of time, something that only the weary truly hold onto, and those that wake only in passing; defy and slough off for the tender carress of times and places dearer to them.
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