Look into my eyes.
Pour out her memories.
Hold up the bird that I once loved.
Angie
Do you remember the days when you were with me?
The lark left.
Fly away alone.
Dragonfly landed on my skirt.
Complain to me about her playmate. Dragonfly left
left with her partner
left the swing
and left me
How many years later
I met my swing again
My six-year-old sister
This girl with a pure face
invited me to sit on her swing
I tried to find the artistic conception of my childhood
Let the swing sway in the gentle sunshine. After all, it can't bear
more years
because it
no longer belongs to me
only belongs to my six-year-old sister.