The memorial songs blow to the forest, meeting with you beside the water. Pass by dark load with all the nightmares, aside the heavy snowy winter. I used to be your hardboard and I had fed the wild wolfs’ hunger. I still was missing our moving shadows along with the silver river.
"It is sincerely from the bottom of my heart of spring. This is the story about the future pictures of our everything." What you taught to me inspired the confidence of the meaning. No matter what it is now about the story always means something.
What is love? Should tears fill my eyes, as the sea cover with the red sunset’s appreciation? I am still learning how to love, as the green mountain earning the nature’s celebration.
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