The Campfire
With a kiss you said goodbye
And I know a kiss shouldn’t lie,
But yet, I see you by the fire
listening a boy playing his lyre.
The wind blows a bamboo’s flute,
You dance their song barefoot
Around a abandoned rustic bow,
Whirling an iron-tipped arrow,
I see why you didn’t want to go,
So return to kiss me a hello,
I will remove my shoes too
And join the hunting dance,
But if I give you a chance
Pierce me with a gold glance.
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