If poems were gowns, Holly would need a mansion to keep hers in! Maybe 2 mansions.
There’s a cabin set back in the trees, hidden like rabbits among the autumn leaves. In the window that looks out on the sleepy river, there is a writer’s desk with printer’s ink and fresh flowers kissed by the sun.
Do you recall the peaceful days we shared among the redwoods that spoke to us? Memories evoke such nostalgia for that ache, that fierce crushing devotion.
I left a basket of seeds in the arch of a tree for the birds to scatter, then I etched our names in its bark. I will always remember you and the cabin by the river, the sultry nights I danced for you, sheer layers of silk floating to the herringbone floor.
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