I use to write.

A friend once said to me, that at the two ends of the rainbow, are two pots of gold. It was a rainy day; we were looking at the sky, soaked in joy, hope, youth. We weren't thinking about how days won't come back. We were thinking if we should take the rocket or the train.

I am sorry, for the longest time I have stopped looking. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the shinning gold, but it disappears much too soon. Sometimes I dream of colors of the rainbow, and I can no longer tell if it was a dream or not. But from the bottom of my heart, I earnestly tell myself, that I will not linger in qualm. I will take the rocket, just like you did, my friend.