Yesterday, I blew a kiss to a flower.
That lonely and yellow one I was tempted to pick.
It was bold, although dainty, for blooming on a cold weather.

I was out with my favorite lemon tea, when it told me it loves the sun.
Each morning, it waited.
It patiently waited for that bright yellow light to touch its skin.
But every morning is a tired and yellow petal falling.

Yesterday, I blew a kiss to a flower.
That same day, the winter ended.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In our next lives, we'll meet at the right time.
Under the blinding yellow sun or even on a moonless night, when I'm on my satin yellow dress or even when everything is plain and dull— at the right time.

And in our next lives, we'll make it right.


j.c.l.