Of feather-light touches,
This love lingers,
Like the smell of rain on dry earth.

Of fleeting glances,
This love penetrates,
Like the gust of sand and seawater.

Of ephemeral grins,
This love electrifies,
Like the strong scent of rose petals in between pages.

But this love I can’t hold,
Like the sand that trickles through your fingers.

And this love will depart,
Like how the drizzle drops in your hair will dry.

And so, this love left a mark,
Like how pressed rose petals left the pages yellow.