Love is a hand that always wants to be touched. Love is the tears shed by worrying about loss, the kite string that is carefully taken over, the same firework that blooms at the bottom of the eyes in summer, and the beauty that is fleeting but blooming to the extreme.
The verdant and picturesque seasons in the mountains are given to you, the fetters of concern entwined with ribbons are given to you, and the gentle kiss through the mask is given to you. There is only one hug in this life, for you.
Love is a hand that wants to touch but withdraws. It is hesitation and wandering, the budding of hazy feelings and the hesitant expectation of wanting to talk and rest, it is the distance between the horizons that are close at hand.
"You were born and I was not born, and I was born before you were old."
Standing on the tip of the fragile life with open arms, with a slight smile, he said, "I can finally hug you." Embrace the afterglow of drifting and relocating, who have lived together for a long time, and say "I like you" to each other for a long time.
In the end, the Forest of the Mountain God watched me and embraced a piece of nothingness, the green firefly fragments melted in the wind, the residual warmth of your body was held in your hands, and love and misses were scattered in the memories of the rest of your life. Since then, you have lived in my name.
We were together until time separated us. After you left, I never looked forward to summer again. "The quicksand between the fingers, the sun and the moon come and go, and it is not far from the corner, and it is full of brilliance."
With the bright past with silver, go back together.
View more about To the Forest of Firefly Lights reviews
