Just hit upon a very old entry in my diary:
(Sunshine, I have) found a resting bed in you where my heart is anchored. But I worry I'll lose you. I understand that life has to move on. I don't want it to stop. Nor do I want you to come along my way. All I want is that the string that ties us gets so long and flexible that wherever I go, am still anchored right here with you.
Later, I ended the entry as:
You've started calling me moonlite. You know - I am, cause you are.
Since writing this, about 8 years have passed. A part of me is still stuck there.
Have tugged at the string several times. Can't see it's other end. And never got tugged back.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
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