Winter has begun.
Flowers are starting to be swallowed
by a thin cape of snow.
For Makoto,
is a beautiful view.
For Kyoko,
it's overwhelming to see flowers disappear.
She bends over and removes the snow of
the last
rose
she can
see.
"You're like that little Prince, I see."
"What?"
"The Little Prince,
saving and taking care of his rose."
"I don't know what you're
talking about."
The next day, Makoto brings with him a book, with yellow pages and an image
of a blonde kid dressed as a prince.
"This is you, Princess,"
he says, pointing to him.
And just like that,
laying on the lap
of the one with forest eyes,
Kyoko gladly listens
the story of a child
that travels around different worlds,
with his melodic laugh
and looking forward to see
his rose again, longing
to be by her side.
And she thinks
that even if Makoto doesn't know it
he is her rose.
