Back then, you were so small. But I see your talent behind your clumsiness. We are but a resemblance- the forgotten elder brothers of successful nations. But now as I see you, you are but a shell left behind.
What happened to the vibrant young man ages ago?
*~Gilbert~*
In the dark of night the room was sad. The sunlight wasn't sunlight. The clouds weren't clouds. Nothing seemed like themselves.
Proud the cornflower stands, yet his petals sagged in a light sorrow.
A nice cool breeze blows by and the curtains blew out slightly. I could see a light orange melting into a deep blue faded into endless black.
The day is young.
We used to have sleepovers. Do you remember? The specific time we woke up at to see the sunrise. Your face, I remember clearly, when the sun shone on it, it was a blissful expression, like the free soul you are, running across the green fields.
Now that the past is all I can cling onto, I can barely think straight.
After the sun rose, in our pyjamas we would go down to the fields. There were many pretty flowers there. There were tulips, wild grasses, dandelions and many other beautiful plants. In our hands were baskets, where it would soon be filled with flowers we took to our Grandpas. I still remember Rome from that time- jolly old fellow, he was. I miss Grandpa Fritz. I wonder how he has been doing. Is he up there with the pretty angels, having a beer or two with Old man Rome over a game of chess? Or are they sparring each other with great swords and shields? Maybe having a nice chat with Ol' Germania... Miss that old man too. How they smiled when we brought them those purty little things. I remember Rome taking a daffodil out and chucking it behind your ear, and little Feli would be at the side, drawing happily the adorable scene unfolding. Fritz would sit with Pop and tell me all about the flowers we found. Pop was especially proud if I found a cornflower. I wonder why cornflowers made him so happy. Maybe that was why West chose it as his national flower. What do you think, little buddy?
There are just too many people I miss.
I've so many things to tell you, y'know. Did you know that I found a baby bird? It was a tiny yellow chick, it was very fluffy, and boy was it smart! It could fly and help carry mail. It's awesome, so I named it Gilbird, after the awesome me. Oh oh! I've also saved enough to buy a patch of land. It's not a big patch, but it's enough to have a small plantation. Spain was happy to hear that, he even prepared lots of tomato seeds. France was just talking about planting some rose bushes. Me, I'd take cornflowers. It'd be so fun. You have to join us, maybe help Spain, he likes you around. There would be so many things we can do. It'd be fun. Come back soon.
Seriously.
Come back soon.
*~XxXXxX~*
The other day I was just walking along this path and I saw this big tree. It was a very tall tree. It's trunk was so big, I couldn't wrap my arms around it, not even half the trunk. It made me feel very sad, but it was beautiful. Winter's on its way here; it was still Autumn. The orange and yellow leaves of the tree looked good on the deep brown trunk. I don't know how, I think of you when I look at that tree. Maybe it's because despite how big the tree is, its leaves still turned yellow. You went away because you couldn't take it anymore, could you? No matter how strong you are, your leaves will wither away.
But I want to believe that, like this tree, after Winter has passed and Spring has come, your leaves will grow back, and you will come back to us. I'd like to see you fuming as you walk. I'd like to hear your complaining. And then when you reach the doorstep, Spain will fling himself onto you, snot and what-not dripping, and then you'd curse and yell and kick and cry. The moment you pry him off you, France will fly towards you, I'd follow, then you'd kick us square in the face. Yes, that would be nice. It doesn't matter if we feel pain.
We'd just like you back.
*~XxXXxX~*
Once upon a time
A man told a fairy tale to a gravestone
He didn't read it from a book
He didn't learn it from the man under the grave
He was sad when he told the tale
Because he knew
Unlike the other fairy tales
This one wouldn't have a happy ending.
*~XxXXxX~*
While going home today, I walked past your house. I must say you are a good housekeeper. The lawn is well tended to and the garden was quite a sight to see. Did Feliciano help you? If he did, he's a good boy. West helps me all the time. We make the house look grand. Yours looks grand too.
It's a good sunny day today. There was some feed on the bird-thingy, uh, the bird house thingamabob, whutchamacallit- The one where the birds, eat the food you put out for them, that wooden stand, yeah. I saw Feli there holding a bag of somin', but he sure looked sad. I saw him break down. The birds scattered away, and he was there, hands covering his face, crying like... He looked just that helpless, you know? It was painful to watch. I want to pat him, comfort him, but it's making me cry too. He really misses you, Roma. We all miss you.
I left, and as I walked I noticed a little white gate leading into the backyard. It was swinging lightly about its hinges in the breeze. I pressed it shut but it popped open again. I checked for a lock; it was broken. It refused to close. And then I realise, maybe, the little gate might also be waiting for its owner to come home. Forever waiting, waiting, with its gate open, singing, swinging in the breeze till you come.
See
There are more than people who are attached to you
The little white gate
It's still waiting
Can't you hear it crying?
...
Won't you go back to it?