Like the child that holds on
to the first drop of rain
that falls in his palm,
though there be a million more
falling all around...

Like the lids that refuse to open
denying the eyes further sight
to preserve the memory
of one beauty lost,
though wonders be born anew...

Like the wish to stop from falling
that one grain of sand
in the hourglass of life
just to remain
in one precious moment...

So I hold on...
To those dear leaves
in this book of mine.
The leaves adorned by your grace.
Which grace,to me,is Life.