Forth rightly, they walked away.
One after the other,
each taking a piece as they

I sit on this bank
allowing the gentle breeze
to caress my cheeks
that needed such finesse and smoothness.

My mind replays episodes
of life’s series.
I am forced to ask,
is this moment mine?

I sit in wait for a response
as the only response is
the roaring voice of the ocean
asking if the question is hers.

Is this moment mine?
Was there a moment?
Is this a memory?
Or just an episode, like the others?

I lost them both.
I lost them.
Well, whether it is a moment
or a memory will be theirs to judge.

I stare at the ocean again.
I find answers in her acrobatics.
Its a cycle.
Somehow, they always leave.