Like the rivers that cannot flow backwards...
Like those people that are nowhere to be found...
Like the cold sun that refuses to shine...
Like those seasons which pass on by...
If ever there was a moment I do not think I know.
I have a memory
But I seem to forget...
Perhaps I have left it lying with dried flowers
In the pages of an old book.
Perhaps it meanders on
And meeting people on the way
Tells them my story: The one that everyone knows.
The one that I have forgotten.
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