Thursday, June 10, 2010

At 5th

Even as the leaves are swaying,
even as the wind is blowing,
I cannot resist wandering,
wondering where you are.

If I am to come everyday,
will it be you that I find?
If I am to look for you in the day,
will you be here in the night?
If I am to give in to what it seems,
will you finally admit, or simply deny?

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