She was a beautiful girl with intense eyes and long black hair.
We would sit on the windy cliff till the Sun went over the hill, and she would sing to me and talk to me about life; that promised to be ours.
Then, the evening would take deeper, softer shades and we would go our own separate ways waiting...... for the next day's meeting.
Today, as I write about those lively days, I can still feel the gaze of dreamy, eager eyes of that beautiful girl whose life and dreams oozed away quietly through the hole in her heart.
Inspired by: Nostalgia and helplessness narrated by a long-lost colleague. I have forgotten names. Only the essence remains.