From a hillside
from a forest
by a soft hand
is picked up
this leaf-shaped heart
Perhaps it has no deep meaning
but a mark hit by frost
This reminds me
of a dusk a shade of forest
from a small mouth that wanted to say but stopped again
from my shoulder
the afterglow that was gently blown away
and now comes back to heart
especially heavy
I may deny this piece of maple leaf
deny it, like rejecting a kind of intimacy
However henceforth
whenever the wind blows
I always cannot help turning my head
listening to the helpless tremble on your twigs