Just a fleeting moment —
like the wind brushing across the lake,
leaving behind gentle ripples
before fading away.
I met him on such an afternoon.
The sky tilted to a shade of honey,
and the scent of milk flowers drifted softly through the old street.
Nothing special —
just a glance, a smile,
and something quiet stirring in my heart,
like the chime of wind bells touching in the silence.
I didn’t know what to call that feeling.
Perhaps fate,
or perhaps just an autumn dream too brief to last.
But from that day, I began to believe
that some encounters are not meant for love —
only to remind us
that our hearts can still tremble.
Then time passed,
and so did he.
All that remains is a fleeting dream,
like a trace of wind lingering after a beautiful afternoon,
like a small piece of music
that barely had time to touch the soul —
before it fell quiet.
