Feel you, smell you, see you.
Is that you in the morning frost on my hair?
That IS you in the smell of the fresh snow and mountain air.
Airy Aquarius, you slip through my hands grasp. Here and then gone before I could breathe.
A still sensation. Our skin.
Now back behind your wall where you belong.
Just hold my rope and hear my tears.
We are exactly where we are supposed to be...
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