Will I Find You In Grandby?

by Ana Palles

Will I Find You In Grandby? Will I find you in Grandby?

If I join my breath in carefree abandon, merge with the wind and let it carry my spirit across land and water, silent breath across the grasses, bowing at our passage.

Will I find you in Grandby?

Are you there, waiting for me to join hands with you, riding wild spirit horses under crystal skies and soaring hawks? The softly padded footsteps of silence’s way, shushing the meadow, listening to the beat of our hearts.

Will I find you in Grandby?

Do you remember we said we’d meet here? That we’d paint the yellow sun with watercolor wash across our hearts. Our bodies scribing the memory of this place even as the soil itself opened wide its arms receiving us, our passing recorded in each counted blade of grass.

Will I find you in Grandby?

Or will I awaken from a dream that never happened, and wonder as my tongue traces that slight taste of mint-laced earth upon my lips whether it was a memory of your kiss, laying next to me, or a distant wishful dream whose time has come to vanish.

Will I find you in Grandby?

Or will I find that we never left?

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