Romanticism

In the distant hours of a moderately chilled night, draped in a red shawl, wandering in the solitude of the lawn, with her long hair open and flowing in every direction, she was yet again celebrating her loneliness. The clouds up in the sky saw her and smiled, the moon in the initial days of rebirth was wondering at the all so familiar sight. The lonely girl's shadow was nothing anew to them both. But it was after many many years she was found in such state. Her peaceful days were shattered yet again but with a distance of many years in between. She was meeting her own soul after such a long time.

Reading about such a lonely restless soul used to bring big charms to me as a reader, being one such solitary wanderer could be a heartbreaking romanticism!

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