The lonely prince sat on the edge of his balcony, whistling.

The sun shone brightly, indicating the beginning of a summer. The prince, however, was shielded from the heat by the gentle whispers of the wind. As he sat there, he felt the wind play with the locks of his golden blonde hair.

Staring at the golden sun, his thoughts ran free.

A small face; kisses inflamed with youthful passion; a promise to keep.

He opened his eyes, revealing magnificent blue irises. Everything in front of him was beautiful; everything was designed to make him happy. He was of royal blood. He wore a striped robe made from the finest material because he deserved it — he was a prince.

Closing his eyes again, he lost himself.

The same small face; eyes that sparkles; long silver hair that reminded him of the moon.

When he opened his eyes, a solitary tear rolled on his smooth cheek.

They said life begins with the sowing of the seeds and it ends with the harvest. Fortune-tellers insist it doesn’t happen all at once; it’s a cycle of living until perfection is achieved. They never e