Sweet missed pieces of a summerstill shared in my immature heartthat time,all dreams were reflected in these eyesat the moment when I wanted to fly in the sky,I closed my eyes.
Before anyone knows, Ive completely forgotthose flying-in-the-sky mattersIve become so skillful in telling lies and excusesThe dreams key was put away in the depth of my heart.
I wonder what things were lostand in contrary what things were in my gripalthough it wasnt an unhappy sharingsomehow I spilled a sigh.
When were in the remote pastunder that sky of summerall things seemed glitteringagain, theres an unheard singing voicethat suffused with light.
From the end of the story weve read throughwe go towards and look at the beginningwhile peruse at the reason of our sorrowtheres also our encountering with other peoplein the depth of a fading lovethe couple that has no idea about the futuredraw a graffiti of the limited love theyre thinking ofwithout realizing that that wall was a dead passage.
Yet the inserted bookmarkwith its usual fleeting light crimson colorraises in the joy of by-chance meeting and the expectation of tomorrowwe close our eyes and sleep soundly.
When were in the remote pastwe passed our tattered promises as if there our treasuresagain, theres a dim charmof a name called eternity,when were in the remote pastwith a rusted bicyclewe climbed that hill road.
The blooming of the flowerthe blowing of the windat that time, the sun alsoconstantly illuminated the worldthe adolescentnow also keep lasting in silenceunder the autumns perfectly-clear sky.
_end. sipencarut
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