You and I are old.

When you and I are both old one day, walking on the road full of maple leaves, although there are no maple trees above our head. Quietly, cuddling, holding hands, and walking through this lonely but happy path. Looking at your old face, I pick a flower casually and pin it to the tip of your hair.

In my eyes, you are still so beautiful. For a moment, I once loved you. There was a time when I was inseparable from you, and time has smashed my miss and blessings for you.

With the shade of the tree on your head, reflecting the old faces of you and me, you took the flower that was pinned to the tip of your hair and planted it back in the soil. It returned to its happiest place. You left, but I didn’t keep up.

Silently.

I don’t know how long it took, but we didn’t reunite after all. God knows where you are, and the wind will carry my thoughts to you.

From a rambling thought on the way home during a random afternoon from my high school time.