My August's Sky

In the August sky, the air is filled with yearning; your purple wizard stretches my folded sentiments. The wait of the Millennium, the Millennium looking back and the Millennium’s expetations all are drifting lazily in the thick fragrance of osmanthus. Here you are and I have had this life of love and painted the August sky an azure one.

You are the most beautiful encounter of my life. When I gently opened your space, your heart closely seized mine. In a blink, your name was ironed in the bottom of my heart as firm as a rock. Whenever I am free, I will be in your room, lingering over those words of wisdom and those beautiful pictures, which have held my heart and my soul.

The appearance of a certain sentiment is not because I have known you many years, but because of a casual, which makes life full of concerning and missing.

My heart is leaping with great joy, and even if it is a small symbol, it can make me imaginable. When my flower of feeling was waken by wind, I knocked open your heavy door of heart with my warmth, resulting in my heart immersing in the gentle sea. The heart that had subsided a long time before regained its consciousness the moment it touched yours. And you are in my mind even at busy moments.

I often think that you come or not come is the same, because you are always in my mind and I will be waiting for you in time or out of time.

You don’t know of the deep love affair unless you have missed; you don’t know of the thick love affair unless you have loved.

Sometimes, I convince myself to make your smile and your face blocked in the screen, not to stare, not to make him stir my heart, and to leave it as it is, and forget the just oath only in the blink of eyes. As at this moment, I hold myself in the lonely corner, writing and painting, only to fill the grief with loneliness of my own.

My love is not in any injury even with the pain of missing, the heart of traveling, and the drunken yearning. My missing scrolls over my fingertips, and that shallow and drunken feeling is that you are gently calling for the previous agreement so that the love flower is blooming in purity in August. Look at clouds, mountains and rivers, read my poetry books, and send my waving thoughts distantly. It is you that plant this yearning, and share with you my love to you with the help of easten wind even if water and clouds block me.

I am again thinking of you when the setting sun is like rosy clouds, like your dimples. My heart is indulging to you and for you.