He says my love is like thunder, so loud it cannot be ignored.

Sometimes when I am not looking, he would make notes, scribble thoughts that came to him about me,

So, when I call, he knows that there is something…he does not need to ask,

“Do you know what bothers me about you Dee…it’s just that you are too good and too slippery for anyone. You run before anyone can think of catching you, like the wind, no, like the unknown…when will you hold still for love?”

“Did you read the book I sent you?”  I ask.

He laughs. He knows me and yet I refuse to accept this truth.

“What are friends for?”

“So, what do you think?” I ask in between sips of my third cup of coffee. It’s too hot inside this house but I’d rather sweat and pace up and down than let the mosquitoes in.

“Love…it’s like giving someone white flowers when you know you want to present them with a rose, a single red rose and the truth between those two gestures is in the actions that prompted you to present them with flowers in the first place.”

“An apology…”

“No, when you know you cannot catch the wind and you’ve tried all your life, what comes next is more painful than an apology Dee…it’s surrender.”