Unpredictable

Oh yes dear, I have read your poem. So, you are on hand for my loneliness and you believe, we could regain our lost hours, some of that old scent, lingering in our skin every time I kissed you. Often, you were fond of me, but I am different now, unlike yesterday when we used hand in hand strolling the sea of love, where seagulls watched over us and envied our morning walks. Ah, sweet memories wither like flowers and no one will ever know who you’ll be in your next write.