"Mom"

I asked my mother when she was five years old

Grandma is white

But you are black

Laughing Grandma

What about me

When I was twenty I would hug my neck and say again

I will move forward

Get rid of worries Standing silently

But I rub ∫ I'm afraid

I'm afraid of my gray hair

Puncture my so-called coolness

Thirty At the age of 40, my young family

Sitting in front of the door to watch the sunrise

Waiting for the sunset

At the age of forty

Excited to pull out my memories ※White hair

I hold my hands and think about it

Who once said

When I was sixty years old, I stroked my sparse white hair

Memory ※There are beautiful flowers between my fingers

I hold my shoulders and stop calling

I am afraid of the two words

I am afraid of calling and listen slowly

I want to tell

I hope that when I am eighty years old

I call mom

I want to tell

that we are deeply connected to each other Concerned

I want to tell

Do it now

Call mom