Driving in the car, the rain paints the windshield like a
child finger painting. The wipers erasing the pattern like a dropped
etch-a-sketch.
    My world stops in my head as I think of coming home to you.
How many times have I done this? Yet, I still get butterflies inside,
knowing your arms are waiting, your smile, greeting me.
    The radio plays, "These fragile bodies of touch and taste...
Never a breath you can afford to waste."
    When two become one, were they ever really one before or just
halves waiting for the whole? Like actors in a play, just waiting for
their joining moments to make the sum of the parts the finished
manuscript?
    Does it matter? The anvil on my shoulders of being apart will
lift soon. Neptune will burst from the water into the sun and bask.
Rattle the trident old man, call the men home from the sea with their
boats full of catch.
    Kisses of strawberry yogurt. That's the treat today. The smell
like a fresh field of strawberries in the spring after a light rain,
the clouds parting, leaving only traces of heavy air as the the sun
bursts past the angry dark skies.
    I was dreaming of the moment. The moment when everything was
right. Right now.
    A little bit of love goes a long way.

Dougie®
http://fatehfightclub.tripod.com