When endurance is becoming a kind of virtue

I stand under your umbrella with a regular posture

That’s what lovers do

The shadow covers the longest days and the shortest nights

Cause the light pours into darkness exhaustively

Its origin is named after home

which is the tenderest compassion statue

The autumn of our city is a white lie

Do the leaves forget to change color on purpose?

We act like we don’t care its duplicity

The wind doesn’t leave a trace

A confused autumn is paradoxically conscious

Since the rules of nature are invincible

The tedious enthusiasm will hurt the expectation of seasons