You are loved.
Sometimes I want to tell you I love you but you are not here.
Sometimes I reach out and run my fingers across the walls of the body you once called home.
For a time.
I think about the time we had together. That the scent of something so small could echo through my life in so many ways.
I think about the possibilities, the possibility of me and you, of what our life together may have held.
I look at the trees as they sway. Golden leaves dancing towards the earth. They were once seeds too.
How many of those will never blossom into a tree?
Destined to return to their earthy home before they are able to flower.
Your presence dances like these autumn leaves within my heart.
I will carry the seeds of my love for you eternally.
My little seedling. My nutmeg.