The Grace In The Gale

He was sitting there, under the sapling, the crumbling pages of the book in his quivering hands.
That’s all he had left of the erudite of a woman he had loved so dearly. Thinking about how nothing
had gone the way he’d planned. Suddenly feeling the not so foreign the touch of the zephyr kissing
his face and running its cold fingers through his hair. But the feeling lasted less than his forever with
his lover, as he felt the pages being pilfered from this grip. Being forcefully hurled across the green
land. Shooting up to his feet, hurriedly chasing after the bits of her he had left. But it was too late.
The wind gushing into his face truncated his breath causing his feet to pin him into the ground.
There he stood, crying profusely whilst reflecting back on how arbitrary his life had been. But she
was right there, holding him in her cold hands, softly caressing his face.