Meet me here

Rustling the leaves in autumn, scuffling my way through the familiar sound of nails on a chalkboard as I hit the downward spiral.

Winter moisture in the air, snow falls on my nose, frost bites my windows.

Waiting is the game I’ve learned too well, small sprinkle of fairy dust and a happy thought holding off for you to meet me here.

Inhale the spring wind, shifting through my hair, throw on my running shoes and I’ll meet you there.

Holding onto a hope, a dream, something to keep you tangible. Grasping the image of you, the hope for you to appear. It has been so long my memory is becoming so fragile. Trapped between the broken pieces of window where we held hands and jumped out of like Peter Pan, off to never land, but I’ve grown up and forgotten how to fly.