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Dancing to Kisses


They called her the gypsy girl, for she went with the wind and loved with no regret. 


They called him the musician boy, for the notes that flew from his fingertips were sure to make any dance with their bold and beautiful sounds. 


I, myself, am the flower that bound their love. I had the pleasure to know both their souls, their pasts and futures. Flowers are powerful in that way; able to see into the depths of the giver and the receiver. This is the story of their love, as I had the chance to witness. 


The gypsy girl was often alone, how she liked it. She maintained her space and grew with the trees. One day, along came the musician boy, on his way to play for the townspeople. He saw the gypsy girl dancing in her meadow and fell deeply in love. She moved to the music of the breeze and he found a great fire in his soul just watching her. 


The boy picked a lovely flower, offering it to her with his whole heart. The gypsy girl gracefully accepted as she knew no one had loved her the way he already did. 


The girl had laid me beside her pillow to watch over her at night. I watched as her love grew for the boy, her longing and passion. Dreams of him sparkled in her head. She loved him dearly, to her heart's very fullest. 


She spent every moment with him, basking in his presence and flowing to his music. Never was there such a pair. Their love grew together as the seasons changed and the leaves turned, never wanting to be apart.


But still the girl was a gypsy and the wind called her away. She wept for the boy's memory, planted me in the soil and encouraged me to grow with her continuous love. Whilst watering me with her tears, she left the boy her whole heart. 


He treasured it dearly, holding it close to his so they could continue to be one. Every time he played his music the notes were taken with the wind and kissed the girl’s cheek, igniting her soul to dance. 


“Will we ever meet again?” She asked the wind. The wind replied, “What will be will be, as it is written.”


So, here I stand, blossomed and bloomed, more beautiful than ever, listening to the musical whispers of the wind. 


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