The childhood dream has faded
No longer
I just want to be an elf with wings
With the moon At night
Leaning in front of the window
are hands that have grown slender
with hot cheeks pressed against the stone railing
In ancient times In the shade of ivy
There are fireflies swimming
I no longer write a diary like a running account
Instead of a dense and fuzzy handwriting
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In the pages of dark and light blue tears
There are sentences that no one knows