When the stillness of days lingers
Beyond this world into our dreams,
And for a moment you are brought
Back to the busy warmth of the stream,
Cherish it only because it is gone.
There is no going back to that place,
Where fingers wrap like a helpless vine.
There are no flowers left in the vase.
When all your life must start anew,
No more sunlight will kiss that land.
And when the song arrives at its end,The time for moving is at hand.
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