it was, yet, another transition that one must sit through, inevitably.
I couldn't put it that way, beautiful,
despite it reminds me so much of spring,
under the warm and gentle sun,
when you could see flowers blossom,
as if they could talk to you,
about how excited they were brought into life,
into this vibrant, wonderful lieu.
It was all dragged and muddled,
like a bagful of water, carried, with an opening punched at its base...
where ever I land, I create traces,
against those that I should acknowledge and keep into account,
they were too, kind and loving,
but I just couldn't stay.
They remained,
as images that would flash arbitrarily,
like how projections would be screened,
as residues were gathered.
It wouldn't have even been surreal,
if I didn't have a chance to act.
Compared to your subtle expression,
it was somehow intended I presume.
Goodbye.
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