Her footsteps make gentle splashes
as she walks through the puddled forest
In her mind, she is with him,
but to the owls and the roaring wind,
she is solivagant
She shivers, as her fingertips brush the ever-so-delicate lilies,
Her little yellow dress waving to the trees as she pads along an unknown path
As Sara Barailles' 'Send Me The Moon' plays on a red 1983 walkman,
She reaches a petite cliff
Tucking her dress under her long legs,
she sits and sighs softly
Her dark hair tied up high in a bun; black rubber band keeping it safe
The twinkling stars reflect on the dangerous, clear sea - waves creating a shimmer of silver specks;
Magic
With the feeble hum coming from the song, she whispers, almost to herself
"Toujours dans mon coeur, amour."
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