We are born,
We breath,
We grow,
And then we are gone.
Without a trace.
Maybe our laughter continues to echo in a Lover’s ear,
maybe our words, written on the pages of a book, forgotten on the shelves of a deserted library, are read by a lonely wanderer,
maybe someone tastes our tears in the salty waters of the sea,
Or maybe our tale lives forever, silent, in the infinite history of the sand .
©️walid salem
March 11, 2020
