I choose not to go beyond that branch of stream.
I hear your call in the morn,
it was that-
making me play sad songs in the warm little room,
when I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin,
even that, I thought.
And I hear you again,
when I was humming this tune down the stairs,
you appeared out of no where,
Like an answer, it was... though it looks like you're drifting away, too.
Feels that I am always beside, maybe
the other way round.
"The cultivation was a success, "
a voice I heard from the men in white coats.
Poignant, it seems.
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