We stand admiring from the railings, a love story being told just below us. We see the two lovers touching each others cheeks, breathing each others air and staring truthfully into their own souls fortunate to have another to share all of it with. The two lovers play their games, enjoying the joyful fact of the moment for just being together. They dance in a graceful manner, following the soothe tune of a song only they can hear. A part of parts coming into their bodies, as they sway to and fro under our gazes shimmered with tears. As the lovers, we knew that the moment is priceless and the bond which was promised there and than will never return to us again as real as those falling tears on our lips. We taste the salty sting, a slight drop could easily remind us that reality is about us all, including the lovers down below. But if love is so real what has reality against it? What can a truth give when the intoxication of each others touch tells you that everything is alright, that everything is fine and keep doing the ritual, keep playing the facts around. In it, against all odds to create a beautiful lie which will at some degree be the only thing that matters. To be in love. To be in a world created by two to be shared by two and to be given to all.
With moments as this, we would sacrifice everything just to make it be as it is. The moment they fall in love again with each other.
The two lovers took their dance; the man not leading but guiding the steps of his partner, while she not following but allowing herself to be brought away with him. The melody within their steps grew and within them came a fire of life hardly seen, even hardly known. He took one step at a time and she took one step at a turn of his time. Their feet parched the ground beneath, spreading the soft soil; writing, creating, painting their everlasting ode. The two lovers move in a pattern all but clumsiness, even a fall or a trip of a toe would be perfect, not flawed at all.