I like this time of the year when everyone’s away somewhere.
I like to see those newly sprout leaves of spring through my window. I like to hear the cuckoo sing in the morning. I like to hear it in the evening.
I like the blue sky and the cool breeze. I like it here.
Even amidst all this concrete crap, I still like it.
I like to stare at that lonesome tree standing amidst all the concrete crap. I like to stare at it for a long, long time until my solitude comforts me.
There’s a sense of calmness everywhere and I like it.
I like it here around this time. There’s a sense of comradeship everywhere, in the streets and in every dark alley of my aged hometown.
I know you hate it here. But you would have loved it.
You would have loved it here around this time, when everyone’s away somewhere, doing something.
You would have loved to look at those newly sprout leaves of spring.
Even amidst this concrete jungle you would have smelled the innocence of your childhood, those dusty roads and misty mornings.
You would have heard the bird of dawn and dusk singing your own melodies.
There’s a sense of belonging everywhere and you would have felt it after all these years.
You would have loved to be here by my side.
And just like old times,
I would have written poetry for you.
