Written by Lost in a Dream/xnicc

Harvest is past, summer is ended, And we are not saved.
Jerimiah 8:20

I stare longingly at the photo in the frame.
I remember the smells that coloured the scene
Salt, coconut, cigarettes–
The fragrance of summer, our summer.
Sun-kissed. Golden. Happy.
You, me and the horizon.
Encapsulated. Contained. Perfect.

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