His name was the water.
And like the ocean where he resides so closely that if you looked the other way a moment you may just miss him.
He is the glistening sparkle at the bottom of the sea. He emulated the spirit of imagination. He was a brush with destiny.
Some never know him.
Some know him all to well.
For he is a phantom.
He is a dream.
He is *the* dream.
The movie romance that glues you to the screen, makes you grab the tissue box and the bon bons when it’s over.
The dream that never dies.
But it always…
I guess you really wouldn’t appreciate it if it was another way though would you?