Love

Dear all friend,

Have a another beautiful day. I am also fine by the grace of Almighty god. Our friend @Dreamer arrange some giveaway. All of you also can join.

Here is the below link :

https://read.cash/@Dreamer/4-giveaway-writing-contest-878bd0dd

October. I walk a wide path, and smooth and soft pear fall from the trees around me. Morning. The silence is disturbed by a woodpecker knocking on a tree in a steady rhythm. The mountain in the fog fascinates me: is it the snows of Kilimanjaro, a ship in the sparkling ocean or a drawing of Exiperia when a snake swallowed an elephant? I also see the roar of water under the sura cliff. It rushes fifty meters down the rock and foamily breaks into several streams on which a dozen mills are planted like a bunch. I also see a house with a wooden veranda, a well and a dogwood.

Am I dreaming it or waking up from some long-term dream? And you, where are you now? Did we have to become an ordinary story like thousands of others? The story in my stories.

And it all started suddenly, somewhere before March, when you were learning "machines 2" and drawing vignettes for a literary magazine. You wanted to paint a portrait of a princess from the past playing a lute under a willow tree. No woman was unreal enough to serve you as a model. I suffered for that distant woman.

You were my newspaper of spring and the storm of my heart. You never said you loved me, but your eyes said it all. Your almost thirty and my under twenty much or little for us?

You had your world, red city, blue shirt and greenery in your eyes. I had my books, tears from your frequent departures and platforms. We fell in love just like in a fairy tale, and days, months and years passed by us. You called me Terspihora, and dusk came to your room with the wind and simsir through the window.

-You're so young-you've talked a lot. And I laughed, laughed loudly and in love.-I love when you call me by your real name and when you're not angry about my ugly actions-I listened to your voice and thought how beautiful gladioli are in your eyes. We had a small cafe table with a white tablecloth and a clean ashtray. We warmed our hands on the hot chestnuts in our pockets and wanted the city to turn its back. And I know, we imagined the same thing: a frozen lake, and all around the silence. An unknown skater on it. Unreal. Her long, transparent, white dress reveals tenderness and peace. I say, we imagined, but in a different way. You with longing, I with despair.

You often left and stayed for a long time. You sent me copper, ugly wedding rings and broken wooden pencils in letters. He begged me not to write to you. I knew you weren't well. I once got dried and pressed irises and felt like you were coming back to me. You invited me to visit you in the winter. I didn't come. I wasn’t entitled to it because I knew about her. And ... I had so much to tell you then, to warn you of the twilight that enters your room with the wind and the Simsirs, to tell you that I am losing you that night as the battalions of Rostov, Berlin and Rotterdam.

The month of March brought you again suddenly. You told me-I've had a girlfriend in Dubrovnik for a long time. Maybe you better get some rest from me. Don't cry ...- And that was it. He went. I looked after him for a long time, but I didn't shed a tear. Was it dried up by all my sources or was it the hope of his return? After that, he wrote to me in a letter - Time has crashed. I don't recognize myself. I'm talking a little. Maybe one day I'll be able to forget the speech. I'm cold. I'm lonely. Send me some sun and your words. I didn't answer. I never wanted to see him.

Today, as I walk the wide path, the wind plays with my hair, which has long been streaked with gray hair. I wonder if it might have been better if I had gone many years earlier to meet the Dubrovnik winters.

@Angel0124