A feeling rises within me, almost like something reminding me that I’ve missed you from within.
The feeling itself is a mixture melancholy for what is yet to happen and a disorientation.
By the time I realize that the Earth has tilted, the lighting is softer, and the air is more crisp, I’ve already fallen off into memories of our past.
The joy, the laughter, the long brisk runs, but also the tears, and times of struggle.
Although there don’t seem to be many bad times,
until you leave at some point in the twelfth.
It is always my body that warns me that you are near,
as if it can sense your aura.
All the good you carry.
The beauty you create.
Love that you cast out for the world to consume.
At times I feel like the world sees your arrival as the end of the good,
but not I.
In my eyes, you are only the beginning.
The beginning to a year of inspiration,
Welcome back my dear friend.