Staring upward. Sifting through the stars, Searching endlessly for you, for any sign of you. Ritualistically, like sand falling through the hourglass, I pray for storms to pass so I may continue. As dusk falls on another day I make my way once again, To the place we called our own, to sift through stars. Ritualistically, like lines sunken gracefully into my face, Father time has
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