Dew fell. Willow drooped.
The Confederate rose petals turned to ashes.
Do you still wish to speak, my dear?
Autumn has put on a brown coat.
Winter tears flooded the porch.
Summer had gone. The head desires not to look back.
Spring never comes. Please don’t sow seeds of lingering!
The heart died in the moss rose bush.
People sit gazing at the stars in the sky. As for me, I sit and count every single “like” that life gives me.
— Yoshiko Amemiya
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