I could feel like having that apple pie,
Like how it went as it was in our song,
During the lunch after our little walk,
Now all that’s left for me are marches in these sets of green while
Basking under the rays and shades of leaves.
The dance of life has died down,
What rises is a choreography that will tell of our new life here.
Shall I hurry back home,
Will I get to see you missing me so?
These songs are not songs or lyrics to take our time off,
But expressions, desires and dreams to what we left with home.
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