Tides.

Four years.

You would have freckles,

A small button nose

and tiny teeth-

that scare me a little.

 

You would cry

when I said no to treats.

You would smile

when we made sand castles

and scream

when I spray you

with ocean water.

 

I can see your brown curls

and deep

set

dimples.

I can hear your

voice.

A soft delicate chime.

 

But you’re not here.

You’re a fallacy.

A fabrication.

 

A dream lost.

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