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Prose for no Particular Reason
I was suddenly struck comatose with this odd feeling that I was acquainted, quite familiar, to some immaculate dream setting.
In it, I didn’t just hear but felt her very presence as if she was standing right beside me, like that faint sense of God you contract after witnessing perfect natural beauty.
She, herself, knew the diligence in the hypnotic rhythm of her Voice’s soft verbal symphony that fell gently into my ears, like the snow falling silently on an open meadow.
The weight of her stare pressed firmly against my cheek, like the tender caresses of a warm quilted blanket in autumn.
