I heard the sad sobs of cicadas.
Summer has passed, leaving someone's gaze lost in thought.
The blank page still smells of fresh ink.
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A touch of melancholy begins the farewell.
I can hear the waves of rice fields rippling.
Kites fluttering in the sky create a vibrant atmosphere throughout the summer.
The children dropped their laughter, stumbling.
On the old embankment, flowers bloomed silently.
I hear the lullaby of the hammock.
Under the eaves, my mother's shadow stretches wide.
The fragrant smoke from the kitchen in the early morning.
The season returns, gently evoking memories of days gone by.
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