August, I start from one,
The door sounds against the tiles,
You start to leave your undenying presence
Stuck onto the frontlets of my thoughts.

Two, words were spoken few,
But a few human errors & one simple word
You correct my interpretation,
& now you start to interpretate my life.

Three, a fortnight has passed,
My heart embraces to your name,
But soon we will be set apart,
Now to cherish our last days.

Four, the end of August comes our end,
As the door sounds against the tiles again.
But now without you,
Without any interpretation or name.

Five, it's December now.
I'll be waiting & counting down to ten,
Until you come back,
& the door sounds once again.

From, the girl at the smallest corner of your memory.