In the empty hours I always take time to tell about you.
Mumbling to himself as he recalled the distant days.
I do not know for sure .. but reality leads me to the bitter feeling.
Such as this morning.
Suddenly the city froze.
Not as usual.
Our conversations seem raw like new people.
The look on your face convinces me that you're thinking about something.
Is that me?
Then what's with your tone?
Why are you suddenly ambiguous?
No need to rush .. I'll wait.
You can think of what you want to say to me.
There may be many things you want to tell through your poems.
Such as longing, pain, or whatever it is.
