A Memoir for Her

The fringes of his golden hair were falling on his ocean blue eyes. The splashing sound of the sea, when the waves of water struck the black rocks stunned his ears every now and then.
He was constantly in the memories of past when he used to roam over this beach with a soft touch of Lisa’s fingers, those memories have started to hurt him perhaps. The twin drops of tears have begun to fall over his red cheeks; he can nearly visualize how Lisa used to draw over the wet sand, which probably hurts him the most.
The cold surges of Westerlies are leaving an immaculate dryness on his pale red lips as if these waves are urging him to speak and shriek out his sorrows. The numbness of his fingers reminds him how warm they were when Lisa used to hold them.
He picks up the brown oak stick lying near his feet and writes his last word for now, ‘I promise to never come back here again, as it reminds me of you’.





