I didn't write this to commemorate anything, nor to hold on to anything. I only wanted to record it.
The wind blows across the meadow, stirring the grass and perhaps raising clouds of dust from the ground.
I want to use my longing
to build a bridge
just so I can stand upon it
and gaze toward you in the distance
The scenery around me
still tells the story of our past
from morning till night, every day
That meadow
has seen several seasons come and go
You, far away,
do you still like wearing that white shirt
as you walk along the tree-lined path,
stopping for no reason,
then suddenly turning around
to see me following behind you?
You didn't say a word.
You only smiled.
There seemed to be no words between us,
only this distance that drew near and fell away.
Sometimes we were separated by what felt like millions of light-years.
Sometimes we were close enough to hear each other's hearts beating.
The day we parted,
you still walked ahead, and I quietly followed behind
until you disappeared at the edge of dusk
and I could no longer find my way back.
All I had was this bridge built from longing.
I stand high above and gaze into the distance.
The sunlight has scattered the mist,
but your face is still blurred.
