fireworks

 

I had a dream
Stopped showering 
A cicada crowed
It will be hot tomorrow
You said while leading me who I fell down, and cried by the hand

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I felt nostalgia for your hand
The smell of asphalt
With much thought that 
swirled among me
It was launched high above the head

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I who come out of a dream
Become taller than you
I lead somebody by the hand like you
Even if I get old
I will never forget that sight

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It will prevent becoming 
the drop and from disappearing