The morning mist envelops you in other people’s dreams
You want to use the hands of dawn to soothe the soul of the night
The shadow of the street lamp tells you that you are still there Climbing
Looking up to find the morning star that can no longer be found on the horizon
The cleaning worker jumped on the dump truck and drove away
Leaving a fishy smell that disturbed the humidity The halo of light
The coughing old man walked slowly from the corner of the street
I couldn’t tell whether it was a rickety figure or a fallen leaf under the shade of the trees
The windows facing each other Spying on each other through the dark orange light
The floral pants fluttering on the clothes pole stir up hidden feelings
The fishermen by the river wrapped in raincoats and waited all night
Is it just for a few small fish that eat grass?
A black cat that never goes home suddenly jumped out of the green belt
It crashed into a mixer truck Driving into the messy construction site
You secretly wish the poor cat finally found a good home
Because there will be a tall building rising from the ground like a tombstone
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A girl with long flowing hair ran past you
You warned yourself that beautiful women never get up early
A red tile fell from the glazed tiles on the bridge pavilion Birds
The taxi flashed past and was the last ghost in this city
The panicked newsboy began to walk hurriedly through the streets
Street snack bars Stir-frying overnight brown rice again
The old man carrying a load sells you dewy apples
It actually attracted a group of sweaty brothers carrying the load
The neon light above the bar door finally went out
The sky will not reflect the emptiness in the doorway for the time being
A gentle burst of gentleness comes from the gap in the glow
You know that it is just a rented wedding dress for a shabby bride
The bright yellow sword spike dances gracefully in the square
Greetingly dividing the first few moments after the dream ends At the end of the morning
Everyone wants to send away the most late sorrow in the youngest attitude
But those morning exercise tunes still sound the same
Come Under the stone tower that holds the water, you look up
Would the autumn morning a hundred years ago also be filled with fog
Would the tranquility after the flood be pregnant with the pain of reincarnation
Will people give up easily where the dream ends