Alone is not lonely
The wet grass between my bare toes.
The scent of rain soaked spring duff
And parched summer pine forest
Hitting all my senses and pushing into the deep recesses of nostalgia.
Hearing the call of the distant shore and the rush of wind through the leaves.
Basking in the glow of the golden hour, sun soaking into my exposed flesh
Melting into the earth.
Falling away from it all.
Longing for before
Longing for more... or is it less that I really need?
Alone is not lonely
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