twilight
such a beautiful word
as if the sight itself could be heard
the soft glowing light from the sky
when the Sun is below the horizon,
caused by the refraction and scattering
of the Sun's rays from the atmosphere
it's so clear
come close
do you hear?

A busy, coffee-smelling Sunday morning
With noisy banters while cooking and dining
Natural gatherings with our parents
A time to fix the little cracks and bents

But alas, my father is under the soil
While mother uses her time to toil
And I am left in my own devices
Do try to imagine how everyday is

And oh, please try to remember albeit
I am not a sad child at all, at least not yet
For I always reason, not in deceit,
That my family isn't broken, just incomplete