When I See A Contrail
When I
see a contrail, I remember Your smile.
You often said with hopeful smile, "I want to become a pilot
and fly about all over the world!"
Anytime, anywhere, the blue sky in your eyes was so beautiful.
When we were 18
years old, the war broke out.
You became a pilot, air force pilot.
You always sent me many postcards with pictures of the blue sky,
even if you were in the town that was reduced to ashes or the red-hot
desert land.
When your
letters broke off, the sky was dyed grey.
And the war has come to an end, but you did not return.
Though you had never wanted to take anyone's life, just wanted to
fly freely in the sky,
you lost the blue beautiful sky and your life.
When I see a
contrail, I remember your smile.
We take back the blue of the sky, but you are not here.
I can never see your eyes like the blue sky again...never again.