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.

Subtlties.

Similiarities.

Reoccurances.

The dream that never dies.

But it always…

I guess you really wouldn’t appreciate it if it was another way though would you?