Untitled blunder

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?

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