I know we remain a half-world apart, but you are behind every door I open and around every corner I turn. There is no escaping you, my dear.
The essence of you is the
essence of me.
When you tell me, over the
wires, you have given the last of your spare change to the destitute old woman
at the graveyard, I feel myself melting into your compassion. I am lifted by your laughter and carried by the
softest of your tones when we talk.
Somehow, standing here on my mountaintop
in the Northern Rocky Mountains, I am also solidly with you there on your
island in the South Pacific.
Christmas may yet hold us apart,
but you will be here for the first stemless daisy to bloom in my spring. There is no stopping us now.
—Mitchell Hegman
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