Letter 1

Reflection can often bear the fruit of many enthralling thoughts.
A sort of hindsight, that allows a person to revel in that which was.
Sometimes, these trips to the past can strike one in the most sullen of fashions,
but more often than not, a sort of joy is taken in harkening back to simpler times.
Tis where I find myself now, as I glance back at the years of my collegiate life
The abundance of knowledge and experiences that I absorbed,
and yet… I am drawn back to the same illusion.
A classroom, in the wee hours of the morning,
when strength and will feels drained, for it has not yet awoken to meet the day.
Lost in translation, struggling to understand that which has been unspoken for an age.
The dead language, its remains taunting my bruised intellect,
challenging my average with every script.
And yet through all this turmoil, this frustration of pride, a face…
I remember a face; across the room at first, then next to me.
Fair skin around pink lips, with eyes shine a dull blue.
Hair gleaning from the rays that penetrate neighboring windows,
Beautiful gold, though a color ever constant in the subject of change.
Though glee not always manifesting in her expressions, her aura remains the same.
A crisp and clear energy that fills me with sensations of fright and curiosity,
Like that of an animal ever cautiously approaching a hand stretched out to feed it,
uncertain of the intentions, yet unable to shake its allure.
Such a rare beauty, the kind whose mere sight can entrance the beholder,
And it wasn’t elegant dresses, or artisan makeup that brought forth this sight,
but rather a baggy sweatshirt on a cold day,
hair thrown up in a tail to hide evidence of a rushed shower.
Eyes weighed heavy from the early hours.
A soft voice,
Occasional smile,
And ever rarer laugh,
That, with it, brings residual heat expressible only by a handful of words.
Warmth that now rushes over me at the hands of mere memories,
And while on weekends she undoubtedly dresses the part,
The part lain down by her sisters in bond,
It is these morning moments I remember the most,
Absent of a mindfulness to look a certain way, giving way to a state of oneself.
And while regret does haunt me for my timid ways, which squandered all hopes to know her...
In a way I feel, that through those morning struggles, my hopes were not unanswered.

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