As he singing a song for me

in the night of a violin

As he buying a cup of ice cream for me

to cool down my fire of the anger

The time he walked through

as I couldn't remember like a dream

The story that he left

is an old book -- too cherish to pore over

Wherever he is being

it is the place of the heaven for my heart

Wherever he marked as the vanishing point

It will be the horizon for my eyes straining to see  

The breath that he embraced

Styrofoaming the silence with delicate package from far

The morning that he sunk into a deep sleep

also run with  details for daily necessaries

He knows very well how to make a smile become a winding bridge

then gently welcome the light of gaze from the moon

When the elegance can't be purchased

while the luggage can't be carried out

we tottering all the way, still

we blundering all the way, still

then polish the percipience of the time and tide  under our  flusteredness