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
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