Mosaic-like fragile illusions of the youth are shattered, lying in the dust.
Their recollections settled in the gloomy asylum of murky, distant past.
Sea foam of dreams dried up, the wind of hope died down,
Faded red colors of the sails into love's funeral white gown.
The ship of love is anchored in the bay of gray weekdays life's press,
The dullness of the real world prevails in its routine repeatable duress.
