those forgone days ;  the olden days

where the winter day feels the shortest of all ( winter days are longest)
the coffee in my hands no longer hot
because I was busy staring
the caterpillar hiding under leaves
so the dew drops won't fall on it
I know I won't understand
the cankerworm creative walking
yet I would stare foolishly
covering my legs with the blanket
watching the clouds moving as snail
through my window
the brush time ; when I breathe out acting like I'm smoking
where my hometown
looks like heaven with foggy mist
the birds bathing in dew
the night walk where I'm not even accompanied by my shadow
my ears sensing cool breeze passing through
touching my cheeks turning them red
the leaves shut down dancing along
finally when I can't even sleep
because the stars are calling my name

I want to live those moments again.