It was a short and bright love-story.
I’d fit it easily in simple couple lines.
It was complete: the waterfall and whirlblast,
The soulful look, and sighs just days and nights.

But it’s all gone, or it was never happened,
Those love confessions, tremblingly for good.
The flowers wilted and rhetoric fully vanished
The very moment, when the dawn became selfhood.

I bear all in mind: that dawn and bench.
You stroked my hand and you were flatly silent.
I understood it whole. And bade you farewell.
And you went out without a word. You didn’t keep in mind.

The story ended on that sandy beach,
In that soft breeze and in those silken waves.
And now there’re only melancholic memories,
The hollow promises and sea taste on my lips.