Write and write.
When you're old, grey-haired, napping by the fire...
Then the fire goes out, it's raining outside, and the inflammation in the bones starts to swing at you.
You want to get up to get the medicine, the blanket falls on the floor, it's even colder.
The dog, who was too old to move, barked twice in a daze.
But there was only a gust of cold wind outside the door, and there were no surprises.
At this time you lowered your eyes, trying to remember the happy things in your life.
At that time, I was young and lively, and I was not afraid of anything when I hit the water in the middle. I thought about happy things every day, and every day was fresh.
Then I met you, holding hands at the beach, chopping wood to feed horses, traveling around the world, and being a happy person.
You wear transparent clothes and sing for me alone, all songs that I like.
You gave birth to a son and a half daughter for me, it seems that you gave me the best gift in the world.
She will grow up on her own, go away, and we will all go away.
I want to keep you every moment.
So I kept running and searching, maybe this is the meaning of leaving.
People are in time and space, people are on the way, it seems that only in this way can resist the beautiful brilliance slip into the dark abyss.
Keep thinking of you, keep dreaming of you, really drifting days.
Maybe that's what travel is about.
The sky has been cold and rainy, and I miss the sunny days more and more, and I found you in my dream.
You are so warm and sweet, I hold you, and at this moment I have collapsed at any time.
You're still running on the beach, chasing the waves and having friends and relatives who are always singing and playing.
I run towards you, bones rattling, voice shattered, tears clouded.
Wait for me, love.
I am alone in this world, there is no tomorrow and no sunshine.
I don't want to take medicine, I don't want to stop, I don't want to continue on these days when I can't move forward.
Without you, I am a displaced orphan refugee.
It is a poet who has lost his language everywhere, looking for someone to exchange vocabulary.
It is a car parked on the road, urged by the cold wind and the traveler.
I have no direction, no purpose, no way back.
Thinking of you, maybe only this moment.
We hug, we kiss, we dance, we climb.
time, stopped.
goodbye.
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