Punting through the lake neath a memory vacant for some time, then she said it was just a memory, one so lost it could never remain. The years that grow became more this mind more eroded. Through each wave of water to seize the rock that buried itself under the sun and moon thus came little to smaller view in the tiniest element under the mountain.

Then she taught herself the beginning of a swim from one lake to the other, only she had to walk through day and night. Let dawn and dusk be the temperance of good thought, and the worst of it all shall be swept away with all cares aloud in the honest companion of her love and dearest thought to those in kind.

Though not betrayal, but a necessity for her survival; though not in loss, but more in gain for greater gain ahead. ‘Las, the leaves that fall shall grow again for bitter winter to freeze their life in time. Nor ere has she called here the quest to life fulfilled; but here became the sight of hope in all she had.

In search of loss ere come life’s dearest gift and for each shall mould her from who she was, who she is, and who she shall be. The answers are clear; they just haven’t been found yet.

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Prose, Realism, Works
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