Gray purple skies paint themselves blue.
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Do you know this dreamer as I know you?
Happy, content, anguished or angry.
Like the weather Iím always changing.
Air currents blow the still green leaves.
My moods bending just like the trees.
Spending these hours pensive and alone.
Expressing, pondering is good for my soul.
Itís not evasion as you may sense.
Neither is it escape as you guess.
Donít construe it as self induced isolation.
Instead its the dreamerís time for creation.
Our home with a view near the sea.
Like you does console and comfort me.
This dreamerís journey began two years ago.
Still trying to heal and weather the blows.
The countless hours of therapy.
Chromatic piles of pharmacology.
Summer is gone and fall is here.
Winter is imminent says chill of air.
Hearth's warmth lulls dreamer to hibernation.
Hoping spring will bring forth liberation.
Never giving up, with courage and strength.
No matter how rocky the road or its length.
The dreamer discovers a way to calm.
Writingís elixir becomes healing balm.
Through all this youíve been by my side.
Despite constant ebbs and flows of my tide.
The time that I seek may break the fetter.
And aid this dreamerís quest to get better.