The love is still there, but it seems hidden. It hasn't been washed away by rainy days, has it?
I miss the spontaneity of our love. It seems to be fading along with the rainbows.
What happened? Oh! I see. It's called life.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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Our love was suppose to be an eternal Spring, constantly bursting with renewed life, full of vibrant colors like the tulips and irises, soft as pussy willows, and warm as gentle breezes.
The love is still there, but it seems hidden. It hasn't been washed away by rainy days, has it? I miss the spontaneity of our love. It seems to be fading along with the rainbows. What happened? Oh! I see. It's called life.
Sue Clayton
23/5/2020 02:56:02 am
I used to romp with him through flowered meadows and soft pussy willows, Pamela. Spontaneous love has turned to comfort. Thanks for the memory..
Pamela Kennedy
23/5/2020 10:11:29 am
Thank you, Sue, for reading my story. Have a good week. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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