Parade

When I was young,

we all, move

From here to there;

But all of us never

meet him

in photos, boxes, letters and cologne.

Move by cars to cars,

stretch east to west

miles of the sliver birch.

We growth

And pick out the cars,

In the middle of the night

The sparkle tore by the winds’ swish

We never have any chance to hear the admonition

by mother

Of the difference of dove and love

Abandoned and adores;

To grasp, the one with two sides

in life, since we were cast on the flesh.

On becoming a traveler,

from the genial bed to wrangle room

to the rear seat of my car, in cold-blooded.

The Parade scattered with shatter petals;

Into image of fading body;

Indeed, this is the reason of

He

always doesn’t to be seen.