Among memories

I watched him! He was there every day and stared with enchanting roe deer eyes, and there he always stepped one step in front of me, as if he were secretly leaning towards me: he was leaning gently on me with his amber curls and wishing for shelter beside me! "There's always some cracked vulnerability left!" The stern eyeballs were also amarra: Execution squads, murderers, examined the unfortunate speaker, while in his awkwardness he failed, failed, or somehow went down. "But where might He have looked, where did a burst of nimble clouds step?"

In the emptied and worn summer maturation, his cold and warm atmosphere stretched his temper. Only loneliness is what left me with loyalty, as an acquaintance. Where a camp of preachers aged in the valley-cauldron of mountain giants represents moral values, as in their words faithful orator-prophets represent Unity daily!

They look right and left and I can only examine why the troubled emotion could be completely ruined in short-minute shards, once it stumbled in front of the door of our hearts ?! "And how long will it be possible for us to conquer each other's indifferent lips with immortal kisses?"

We don't even know anymore! But from the dense image obscurity of memories, we often weep back the Eden drops of our still bitter love: Maybe our perforated wound hearts can be successfully divided and filled in a single moment? Maybe it just doesn’t matter just the thought?