Do you love me?

I walk.
Leaves crack under my feet in the forest of sorrows.
A distant drum is blown my way by the wind.
I listen.
Just a sound I recognize.
A flock of sparrows.
I look.
A shimmering shape on the other side.
I see a person in the mirror who tries to hide.
Do you love me?
Is it a retorical question?
Because you asked me in the same time.