Wandering thoughts
Follow the green wall-creeper
Look for the fulcrum to stop
Look up casually
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The figure in front of the window
Turns the noisy street into a rippling lake
With staring eyes
Bent into a bridge
This side is a door
The other side is a window
I stand inside the glass door
Like a fish tank The fish inside
Looking at you
But can’t swim out
That door
Painting the heart
Thinking When you were there
I didn’t say a word
I just picked up the pen of memory
Drawing the mountains and trees
And buried in Promise under the tree
When I miss you
I am silent
Just pick up the pen of searching
Draw that river and that road
There are still whispers lost in the water
When I miss you
I am silent
I just pick up the pen from my heart
Paint the moon and the stars
And a sigh left under the moon