The yellowing plane-tree leaves carried the heart-fluttering end of boyhood away as autumn winds blew through, bearing a fleeting, bittersweet love.
The wind on the sports field and his gaze
became my whole summer.
Over the years, I've watched fireworks so many times. Each year they grow more spectacular, but that year was still the most beautiful. You were there that year. That one year was better than every year after.
We all love the light, though it vanishes in the blink of an eye. But you are still you,
with a name that makes my heart tremble whenever I call it
