For love,
he wrote,
I do this.

He put the letter   
on the rail of the bridge,
then jumped.

A splash
in the darkness below.

A playful wind came,
took the letter,
carried it to the same watery grave
where it´s writer floated
with the terror of the last moment
to be seen in his eyes.

But actions
tell their messages
even without letters,
and love dies
even without suicides,
as she had found out.

08.07.2002