Miss

A book. A tree.

A person. A city.

One day. A kind of yearning.

In a May afternoon.

Summer is a gust of wind.

It is in close proximity to tell you.

Close your eyes.

Stretch as far as eye can see is blue.

Think of you.

The world return to the quiet white.

Invisible you are transparent.

Like a gust of wind.

Just keep dancing, dancing.

The wind blew down the petals.

Is your riddle.

Under my umbrella.

Just wait.

Waiting for the transparent to you.

Follow me home petals.

In the book you read.

Withering process as I miss you process.