Excerpt from a Book I will Never Write

194

But May arrived, and its light rains swept the nostalgic thunderstorms which broke out indefatigably on my cheeks. And its songs cured the pain occupying my breast. And its sun warmed my soul formerly frozen by your absence. And its beauty filled the hole gaping at the bottom of me. And its perfection calmed my ravaged spirit. And its purity invaded my cracked soul. And its sweetness embraced me and restuck spare parts. And his its lightness woke me up and May arrived.