Our yard was a whole world.
We jumped over rubber bands, cooked "soups" from grass and sand, wrote letters with the smell of lilac.
I remember those bare feet - dirty, but happy.
I remember how we ran through puddles after the rain, and my mother scolded, but laughed.
In those days, happiness was simple: ice cream for 5 hryvnias, songs with a guitar, first feelings.
Now I am different, but somewhere inside the same girl lives.
She still believes in goodness, in the real, in love that does not hide behind likes.
I don't want millions - I want someone who will say: "Let's go barefoot to the river?"
Then I will know for sure: he is mine.