In the face of the pen filled with ink, but the words wind finally hesitate paint faded, did not leave the color promised by memory did not extend the body's warmth sun Spring breeze inverted like a piece of unwrapped wrapping paper came to February in all things in a heavy chattering listen to someone left foot walking is a kind Sealed action past sleep, buried perhaps should be fermented into another aroma so he added memories in your dreams rich background from the withered And a rational rejection of the sun