I do not dream
For I have found the waking...
the hands quiver when it comes to
penning you a garland of poems...
You are a star shining brilliantly
far away in sky...
With each movement forward,
a firmer footstep follows...
Be careful of the stones you throw
When your throne is made of glass...
So deep in my ears
there is a song...
Sitting opposite to a blue wooden window,
far enough so that breeze won't sneak on me...
We were skipping across
Hollywood Boulevard...
Ever
So...
Nights are no longer
synonymous with...
Sometimes I wonder why
Some people can't let go...
I used to love the holidays.
I loved waking at around 5am...