Perhaps a dove among the mourning doves is my beloved now. Such light wings and what chilling song! I’d appear bulky and sullen before them. Denying me, they hide between foliage as the sun hides in the grayness of the evenfall –now cold and foreign appear the high clouds and the cobblestone wall.
Maybe, maybe I should rest a bit after all?
A few pieces of stone broken off from the wall catch my eye. Here ends the wall and from there only couchgrass and wild briar lie. One or two trees stand upright among the grasses, the line of mighty cedars behind me going on no more. What use? Those expanses are not for me anymore.
Languished ivy and moss wither under my feet –how verdant they were when she was there, before I arrived at this place where an eternal past and many futures meet.
My feet? Right, those boots got quite old, could be they need a change. Could I think about such things a moment before? When she was alluring me, enrapturing me with a final embrace as she disappeared into the breeze.
Windblow, dried up ivy leaves gushing from between cobblestones, dirty boots, harlequin twilight-sky. An acrid aftertaste.
It’s late, I need to go back.
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