This is the theme of my sorrow. You try to attach the seas and and the sun and what comes out is the bitter music of an old guitar. The waves complete themselves in the birth of flowers, only that they’re small, almost invisible. How long does a memory last? When a shadow’s faded and forgotten, who will pick these silent blossoms?
I’m trying to forget you. Unhurried and meant for the sky’s lullaby. Here’s a simple goodbye. A cradle song for both our sighs.