179'

Dear Lily,
I've never written to you before, but now I want to. Because I finally realise the deficiency of the colours. I went to your hometown with Hans, you know, where the five trees in your painting are.
I still miss you and the paintings we drew together. I still remember how you were excited when you managed to match the colour of the snow. I still believe, if someone say that the most twinkling thing is the star, that is because he've never seen your eyes.
Well, how do you like your new home? Are there also many beauties?Are you the most exquisite one?
You said you were a dreamer,and I was the ringer，but what made me different is you. You see,what difficult careers we had. You were pure lily, but could be like the bloody rose. The silver thorn is dazzling through my soul, still makes me painful. The deadly beauty made me couldn't stop loving, even in the sleepless nights.
How I hope we could paint blue and grey on your palette when senium comes. The blue is like your eyes' colour , and the grey is like the colour of our hair. This was the only extravagant hope I used to have.
But I know, time is a cleaner, it takes things away, it makes people forget. Like the seasons change, like the sky turns.
Stop thinking.
Maybe you were the wing of Angel, which was broken off, falling down to my world, turning into my happiness and sorrow.
Now, the autumn comes here so I sent your scarf to you. In your pictures, the sunshine is always the gold jumping into my eyes. The most splendid picture I made is you while yours is the sere trees in your hometown.
I went there with Hans yesterday .
What was different, they all seemed to be lively under the sunshine.
The view was like a painting, the leaves fell like a poem .