It has been raining in my neighbourhood,shek tong tsui
for a hundred years,it seems
It was a red place
Now as we can see,very amber
I greet the old ghost here periodically
From the past since I tend to cradle my city after the sun retires
My child will grow up here,
What color will the night be then when she's old?
Will the rain greet her glistening in the street?
Will she be happy even when everything is all gone?
Will our children remember?
I can teach her now
Vanish is just a word and imagination is especially a word when it counts.
It is ok to be nostalgic about the present.
~apys
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