Each girl walks with a boy,

but no one feels the fire at  3 pm.

Bathed in sunlight, for now

Yet soon the winter winds of Harbin

will caress their hair.

And lead them in a contracted dance

bounding the battered, shell-like dreams.

Button-bright eyes quietly growing,

an awkward bend of recognition.

How strange, how different

this parody of life and death…..

compared to running before this dull life, slowly realized.

A brief moment skimming the clouds,

then disappeared.