Red Railings Beneath Pale Hands

I remember those pale hands. A hazy dark robe, a delicately sculpted smile, a glance back that could charm a hundred souls. Three shadows danced above the lamplight, beyond the bustle, amid the solitude. Through past and present lives, the waves never cease; all that remains is our hands clasped together.

I remember the red railing. My heart's wishes entrusted to a letter, longing slowly taking root, the road ahead stretching on and on. Let me show you the depth of one person's love. We speak frankly without words, our brushes answering each other. Sharing wine in this mortal world, wandering without fear, I only hope to have you by the red railing.