I have never heard about your poem anymore.
Maybe i know, or i just guessing the reason.
But, one thing that i surely know.
Even there are no poems anymore.
There is a place, in my universe.
There, lived..
Your words,
Like some books..
They are neatly arranged in the shelf of my memories.
Just like in apple pie order.
And, now, i don't want to share all of that books anymore.
Let me read it all alone.
Even i've ever read it all with you.
It was nice and sweet.
I mean, now i will read it all with my tea, under the sky, and the sunflower beside me.
