... I miss him the most when I'm surrounded by the majestic mountains, cool summer breeze and nights by the fire. I miss him the most when it's dark, and the snow is gently falling around me, and I can still feel his fingers gently closing around mine. Yet when I reach out to grasp his hand, he slips away from me, like smoke. Yet it still clings to you, no matter how many times you wash it out, that is the only thing that remains.









