White cherry blossoms against a white sky. Springtime. New York City
You exist, this I am sure of with only slightly wavering certainty that vibrates with nothing but the tiny memory of a breeze.
You, a whisper in the night on lips that mouth your name swollen with hope.
You, a whisper that launches forth dreams on the backs of my eyelids.
And I exist too, this I am sure of with quivering certainty that holds steady in the presence of the strongest of wind gusts.
I, the whisper your lips haven’t yet come across.
I, the branch that sways in the warm embrace of possibility.
I, the whisper that dances delicately in the night
Taken with the Sony A55.
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