When she holds on to his hands, her heart sings a little lark song
When she hears his words of sincerity, her heart snuggles with a happy sigh
When she thinks of him and her, her mind wanders as her lips part into a smile
And yet, nothing is certain, for noone can tell what the morrow brings. A smile today, a tear the next, and a dull ache the after. No optimism, no cynicism, but an honest approach to a cherished little dream.
And she dreams of the morrow, of the after and after, where she would hold his hands, hear his whispered words and see the him and her.
And approach tt day carrying a barrel full of hopes and lights dancing across the silent night.
Walking with small, steady steps, on and on and on, until the day when Aurora awakens from her long, happy dream to blissful notes of joy adorning the sunny skies.
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