Looking on the yellow moon, waiting... for the silent to break.
Knowing for certain, as if breath in me being taken away by a force, I wish I can fight it away.
I know my time will come.
I touch the brown blade of wild grass with one hand.
Another one I hold her palm tight against me. The cold monsoon wind blows against us.
The strong wind tries hard to break us apart, yet the coldness of the night brought us closer.
We share warmth together by the palm, by that small portion of shoulder and we hug.
What nature tries to hint to us?
Was it a hint of separation or a union of two people?
That day I saw her last, yet her breath last forever in me.
She left and I know a part of her still stick to me.
I wish to let go, yet it hangs on.
Over the years, I forget. Some part of it dies away. Some part of me.
I ponder and wonder for years.
For seconds, I wonder into that greyish soil of my soul.
That one day as if rain had once came again.
Bringing some green back to my parched up soul.
That tiny little trees will it grow big?
I do not know.
But I want to be there until that one day it does grow old.
From its withered remains, I know one tiny seed is waiting to burst.
To bring back life, I know it is for a better future.