I dreamt of the bridge over the Drina, so wide,
Where I stood tall, with freckles as guide—
Freckles of someone from ages ago,
Whose warmth once wrapped me in soft, steady glow.

They are the marks of one who can break,
And build a new world with each move they make.
In just one flicker, a tremble, a glance,
They summon both ruin and radiant dance.

These freckles hold tones that birth hues so divine,
A feast for the eye, but a wound in the spine.
Enchanting in color, but sharp when they burn—
A lesson in love that’s too cruel to unlearn.

Freckles that tear and raise worlds anew,
To them, all my heart—I gave what was true.
But did they deserve it? I still cannot say…
Yet I offered it freely, day after day.