SelfPub: Illusion

The people in our lives like the seasons. They come in the spring, when the buds on the trees swell still, and nature slowly but surely transform the world of flowers. In some places in the meadows are already in bloom colorful, yellow, so bright dandelions. They will be with us all summer. Such a long, sometimes even endless; with some people, however, the summer is short and rainy, and some lasts a lifetime. But they always leave or die. After all the leaves fall from the trees in late October. And look in the window, and all around dead. In your life where everything stood still, joy is no more. And left one man, and with him all summer.