You came as a whisper. Soft and gentle and yet so powerful you woke me up from a deep sleep.

You came as a breeze. One that went just as fast as it came upon me and powerful enough to knock me over.

You came as a dream. One I can’t quite touch but the essence of it I just can’t shake.

I sit and I write, and I hope you know that you are that whisper. You are a warm breeze and a dream that I will always remember. A dream I seek to dream again.

And yet I must let you go.

I sit and I write and I’m angry with you. For whispering so sweetly and then knocking me down. I’m angry I can’t remember the dream and yet I am burdened by the essence of it. The essence has a smell of stability and trust. Of safety and calm.

And yet it cannot be touched or even seen. It’s only a feeling that isn’t strong enough to be anything more than what it is.

I sit and I write and my heart hurts, but I move on.

And somewhere a door opens.