I once stood on this building, looking alone at the sky that I had looked at with you. I missed your unique scent of lemongrass, and tears fell with difficulty.
I thought we would stay together with those books, that pen, that picture album, and that guitar until the end.
However, as I was thinking this, these trivial and exciting things came to an end. Our raging youth finally came to an end in the summer of that year.
And you finally disappeared with the illusions we had had like bubbles.
Only your broken smile always stays in my memory, saying to me repeatedly:
Chu Huai, are the flowers of the Poinciana tree blooming soon?