Sometimes, I wonder at trees which grow along the road.
I see them when I travel to somewhere,
Somewhere I would not like to mention.
From my window.
That is not my window actually.
And they amaze me.
Passing by, like a trail of some beautiful mechanic's path. Lively yet dead.
And they spend their whole life at a place.
Maybe they fall in love with their sky,
Or maybe with the little that changes.
Maybe, I think too much.
Sometimes.
But, I think they are so much like you are, for me.

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