I cannot shake the dryness in my mouth as we walk along this country road where pick-up trucks and farm tractors shower us with dust. I turn to you once more, after touching your hand, and see that the work of God has taken hold. Now I know.... You can never be mine, never again be mine, even as I try to brush the dust off your habit.
October rain –
the medicines
of a long illness
by Mike Montreuil
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
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