leaning into the darkness of the night

into the stillness of the leaves, leaning, into
                                                                   into
into the soft perfume of the flowers,

he loved it when she was sad, - suspended
between the sudden gust of wind,

every time he looked at the sky, tender tears
appeared, from nowhere,
running on her milky face, as if caressing the
clouds,

he watched her sad gaze wandering among the waves,
dressing them with a last sunset,

the tide still remembers her steps,
while the sea always forgets shells on the shore