When A Blossom Falls.

I met a girl one sunset afternoon. She’s a bit surreal and a mysteriously-looking daughter of a very affluent chief cook in our land. Her eyes are kind of dying, her nose seems pointing to the beautiful north star at night, and I think that her lips is drooling with cherry blossoms that elude my sense of smell even if she’s in just in front of me.. I’m stunned as she grabbed my hand and placed it on her lips. I said ”Why are you doing this?”, she had no reply. We’ve never heard each other’s words and I have never asked her about it after this day. At a moment on the coming day, I’ve learned that that’s the last time that I’ll see her, her father said. And so I’ve never seen a girl who’s lips never failed to beat my heart faster than ever. As the days stretch to weeks, and as the weeks tower to months, I’ve not resisted the impulse of finding her. I went to her home almost everyday, but no one was in there. If ever she sees this, I would be elated more than before because I’ve finally shown how long am I resiliently standing here, hoping to know the answer to the question, ”Why are you doing this?”.



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