Even the sounds of footsteps on the sandy shore were echoing.
In that place, what was the thing your hand hid in your pocket?
Even my words froze.
Why were you standing behind me?
A dry wind blew then.
The eye of heaven told all about it beginning to repeat again.
It was forgetting the days and eyeing the empty heartless boxes.
The red eye was truly red.
My swallowed words looked on the pale moon casting a dim glow on your couth profile.