Dear Love,
Fall has begun and the turning leaves make me think of you. Today as I drove, the brilliance of the red overtaking the trees reminded me of the way you fire up every room you ever enter. You are pure energy sometimes. I don't mean by this description that you are never in need of care or being held--I like that you know when you need those things. I just mean that the leaves, like you, are full of wonder and change, of windswept hope, even if they are dying. You, my Love, are anything but dying. But like this red, you are powerful.
Just beyond the red are golden leaves that glisten as the sun kisses them topside up. They shimmer even, like your eyes when you are full of wanting. There are times you speak without saying a word--like the heavens. And these golden testimonies are of how the world should work: give and take, come and go, always with the hope of return. I love that like these leaves, you always return to me--green and ready. But today, like this gold, you are shining.
The rest of the leaves of brown and gradations of many colors remind me that you are multiple--not fragmented, but so complicated, so complex that I could spend lifetimes with you and still not know the depth of your wonders. You are composed of the Wonders of the World and beyond them. You are wondrous, and home.
With All my Heart,
Your Valerie
Valerie Bridgeman
© October 1, 2013
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