The pixie dust floats freely now, sprinkling the air with golden specks of light. Love, real in your face love, never loses hope. It defies all logic, transcending illness, magic, planets, time and infinity. I’m sprinkling the air with pixie dust, faith and childlike qualities, so that we might grasp onto wonder, in these shaky, fast times of uncertainty.

Tomorrow will come, or it won’t. I needn’t remind myself of that. I mustn’t worry over the minutiae.

I have only to concentrate on the walk, making the now minutes count. I carve my name into my bench for posterity, so that I might never, ever forget. Be forgotten.