Let Bygones Be Bygones

My pillow of dreams whispered in the middle of the night. Do not sleep and write your love story. The companion must have sniffed something of my whereabouts. Why I come late to the bed nowadays? Yes, I cannot hide anything to my contemporary. This was just a beginning with a lass. She must be in her teens. I have totally forgotten of my age until the very first day when she called me uncle. I was disgusted. Truly I felt a contrast and a contravention the theory of love. Our random visits to lonely parks and we exchanged books and chats nothing beyond that. She gave me a birthday gift Ken Kessey's new edition ' One flew over the cuckoo's nest' and I gave her a second hand book of Kafka's 'The Castle'. I was very cautious with my new name uncle and the life goes on like a fairy tale without any obstacles. *Dedication to an unknown lass whom I met only once in my lifetime.