If there is an afterlife, I would rather choose to be a tree that grows in your courtyard, green in summer and white in winter. When you stay in front of the window, there is my scenery.
If given a chance, I would rather escape the wheel of fate and be your breeze and your warm kettle. When you bow your head in deep thought, there is a true feeling for me buried in you.
But there are no ifs, I can only look at the other side from here, telling the story of life and the separation of death. But what cannot be dissolved is you, taking root and sprouting in my heart.