We sit around.  We laugh.  Someone makes coffee or pours wine.  The air is cold.  Enough.  To wear anything, everything.  Those things that belong in between layers of other things.  But the sun shines.  Determined.

We live in a twilight disguised as day.  Perhaps it has become day.  Our daylight.  The roots are long since gone.  Our bags packed and unpacked until we hardly need them at all.

We have each other.  And time.  Gone by.  And ahead.  We whisper, we share and we withhold.  With love.

We know with a knowing of a decade.  Or so.

These times.  These times that seem so easy, so light, so filled with contentment, fulfilled.  They may go.  They may change.  The storm may come and wash away these sacred moments that seem like normal.  Now.

But now.  Right now.  I see.  I hold, I cherish, I inhale.  Every bit.  Moment.  One.


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