The words spring to my mouth so readily I almost have to hold it shut. The dream is so real I can almost touch it, but have I forgotten how to reach it? The image of you in a gown to bring even Buttercup to envy, of pulling you up to my side and riding to the ball, where we fly across the dance floor with grace and beauty unmatched even in my dreams.
How I remember the way your eyes sparked when I used to see you, and how blind and foolish I was not to see and appreciate it then.
