The chirping of cicadas bites the sticky heat in the air
I saw your beautiful eyes when you picked up the paintbrush. I counted the light on your eyelashes.
Like counting bright stars
But I can't count how many beats my heart skipped
That summer was too long, long enough to dry the promise
That summer was too short, too short to retain the silhouette
Now I also taste the sweetness of mulberry trees
But always one good afternoon, I suddenly remember
Your hand that brushed the top of my hair was very, very light.
Just like that summer, the unfinished half-goodbye
Intention: Gentle companionship and beautiful expectations in youth