~ willow ~

Dear Sir,

I sat in the park today and as it is with most of my quiet moments, i thought of you.

In quiet contemplation i passively stared at the dry, tawny carpet of leaves on the grass.

A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves and they rolled and danced across the lawn and into the air. Some spiralled in mini whirlwinds before laying down to rest as the wind subsided. Dormant until the next uplifting burst livened the leaves again.

You, Sir, are like the wind that blows in and can whip me into a frenzy or buoy me with your mere presence. Lifting me up to heights i couldn't reach on my own and leaving me to float down to Earth, satiated and delirious. Enveloping me so that all i know and feel is you and i am weightless.

And when you are gone i'm carried by the memory of the twists and turns of bending to your will. The loving struggle and, once i gathered the courage, eventual release.

~ willow ~