Morpheus's Links
It was he, always he, with his honey colored hair and soulful eyes. You’d think them mournful, but they aren’t, always. His head is lost somewhere, up in the heavens, but his heart is ever present. It feels as though our hearts were swapped, really; his of sorrow and mine of hope, but I suppose a soul doesn’t fit a face. He is a light all his own, in a special sort of way.
This longing consumes my every thought and word, captivates, stirs; not a day passes that I do not yearn for him to be rested beside me, beneath the willows; quiet, still, as we always were. Unspoken… gentle, those times were. A peace I have found nowhere else.