I used to search for stars in the dark and the fig trees would smile. And there was a bat at our door, on its nightwatch. When? God knows when it was... Maybe I was a child. I used to keep silent, my silence was a poem...
You used to look at me from a distance, in a way that caused pain. Your eyes were dark. I would embroider a rose onto the frame I held in my hands. Because the age of love back then was a whole lifetime.
When? God knows when it was, life was spring, and maybe I was just a child. I forgot to live as I grew up.
The book of warmness and full of life stories of the young, of colourful lives, loves that never wear away, of years smelling like strawberries and small joys...
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