"The wet sunflowers hope the future for the two of us.
They bloom kindly with calm faces, it is like protecting us. They await the day."
I look at a puddle and float you there. I still feel you by my side now.
I scolded you when we didn't understand each other well. The hand is still painful.
You were taken by the silence, and it showed me.
The illusion which cannot be called happiness helps me not to forget the day.
When I close my ear to the voice, I get just confused with the memories.
I want you to remember the days.
"Please stay here.", so I hoped.
The rain and separation at the end of May are the same as that day.
They(rain and separation) make the second time meeting wet and shaky.
And I will laugh about the fact that everything was a dream.
I cannot describe the fear for tomorrow. I can feel it when we touch fingers.
Only. I wish for the realities in the two of us rather than hug you.
The days like a dream are too short. Your dying words are so calm and,
"Please do not forget", so I hoped.
The sky after the rain at the beginning of June is the same as that day.
The sun said good-bye for a second time.
And it laughed at me about the fact that everything was a dream, a daring dream.
Today I live for seeing the "Barrette" which you left.
The Art Of Drowning.