For years the shadows of a sunset loomed into Mann's conscious life. He seemed to feel an ache in his bones with the passage of the years; nevertheless, the memory of her smoldered with a warmth stronger than his hurt: hugs that held the dawn, kisses that reached him as soft petals would. "Cassette, my tidal hymn," he prayed volitionally as the tide, "your love is my sky, my heart's endless flower, my soul's everlasting song." Her voice would float gently back to him, glimmering on his heart like starlight: My Mann, my shore, my forever, your arms are my dawn, your kisses are my stars. Warmth filled his heart, an ocean of love binding their souls together as a flame that upon its journey across the miles became an undying beacon.
In dreams, they met, her arms around him, warming his soul; his lips on her brow, rekindling every vow. "Cassette, my dawn of starfire," he would whisper, "your love is a river flowing through my soul, eternal, radiant, and true." With a smile, full of warmth, she hugged him and whispered: "My Mann, my tide of light; your hugs are my haven; my heart will forever bloom with you, my soul's eternal spring." They were songs of love; their love Song was Patient; its essence was a flame fed by the communion of two hearts one with a loving flame, the gentle dip into heaven's ear.