Melancholy of the future

MELANCHOLY OF THE FUTURE
When I'll be older...

I will still doubt about the truth of my life, and wonder if it is not all just a lie, a mean joke. By this time, we will all be apart...

I already regret these sweet times when I was coming over totally happy and careless. We used to play role games and hide and seek in the forest. We used to toy with our limits and discover together the forbidden fruits. I miss these times when we would listen to these bands we liked, very loud in the living room. I miss their visits in my natal mountains, their surprised looks to flourishing nature and vivid colors. And I'm sure they miss my pleased cries in front of the beauty of their stoned house and wooden floors. And this mysterious stone carved cross on the small hill, just by the main path... I miss his scary medieval story about their local savage beast, told in the middle of an autumn night, among the soft sound of the wind on the leaves. I miss their dad knee-high socks that made me smile. I miss the entertaining chat of their mother, always so nice and caring with me. She used to treat me just like them, like a sibling. I miss their little habits and manners, their way of talking, their chops of beer at 5 in the afternoon, their wake up call at 8 in the morning. I miss their love. I miss them so much...