I stood on the bank of a stream. A breeze blew through my hair. A voice called out to me, and I turned. My heart leapt, as it does when a friend greets you. I had not seen her in years, but we talked as if no time had passed. Her eyes were still wide, filled with hope, but now ringed from years of grief. She looked at the stream then back to me.
“I missed you,” she said.
“I meant to write,” I said.
The stream flowed by, and the sound soothed me. It washed clean the years of loss and brought back a chance to give all I had.
(This short piece is written only with one-syllable words.)