The days we spent together; From Swansea all the way to Paris and back were gentle and so sweet…
Still there are times throughout the day, when I think I can almost hear you.
Conversations we shared and maybe, I am just imagining it and wishing we were still there, together.
But it’s when I turn to look around, that I can almost hear you, but then, it’s just the whisper of winds in the trees blowing outside my window.
Those days are and were an awaking and a healing place for me and now it’s like we’re so far apart.
It is dreadful there is such a great distance between us…and here, my despair is great.
All because of someone’s lack to read the border entry date stamped on my passport.
We traveled all summer, and we were not even in the United Kingdom six months. We were in France, Cyprus, Italy, Northern Turkey, Frankfort and Greece in July and August and part of September. I remember driving back from Paris to Wales twice.
Those are the moments, they seem so vivid and real and that is why I am so lost in the grip of your touch.
Remembering you in the mornings; Getting ready to conquer the day.
You said, “we have to be brave even with healing wounds. Yet, triumphant; hands clutched, with arms held high.”
Moving like thunder, knowing Intellect would be our greatest weapon; and I am prepared.
You told me; “A great mind is like a sword held high in the air; safe, swift and sure. If you choose your battles for the right reasons; you can win the war. ”
The battle is on…And now, all I can do is wait.