"And slowly, I hear your footsteps running towards me"
Time.
Days.
Moments.
They were cruel to those who needed them.
I needed them the most.
They ran ahead of me, watching me falling behind
and I just stood there, cowardly.
After all those thing that I have write,
I suddenly woke up
and felt weak,
I suddenly decide not to look for him
for what such hope for me to feel alive again?
but...
my words ran to you
they seek you
knowing that I need to see
an existence
that came beside me.
"My dear, can you make me a little younger?
So I could hear these convictions of me inside,
that I have no longer time to waste
that I must...
I must give it my all
to be alive again
even with these little emotions
can you please give me a little more time?
to write these strange sense affections for him."
Time answered.
At the littlest of all,
you played a silent lullaby of your own
the harmonica felt right for you.
I slid down at the walls behind us
beside my knowing window
touching everything of what you say
carefully putting everything into words
As if you let me wrote you
even though you never knew.
I hear you playing
slowly,
I
hear
you
running towards me.
أنت تقرأ
Dear, Stranger
عاطفية"An old woman losing her will and time to write, but suddenly, a young man came by with a miracle in his hands. Will she ever be able to write again, with a passion of her old self? or time will cut her short to her grave?"
