Finger tips traces the edge of the paper, following the words on the line which it's the sign of , the page is over .
As the wind rushing through the half opened window.
And the restless curtain with different sizes of drizzle fights to bash my papers away .
The weather got my attention and made me fold the age of the paper tediously .
Snif the aromatic rain , inhale and exhale
Jasmine ! , frangipani ! ..
As I'm taking a sip of my last cup of cinnamon tea , I know that the rainy days of my home town , are my favourite .
There wouldn't be anything compared to it's smell .
Reminding me of us as a child,
And brought me to,
Where I said ;
I'm staying
Here .. no
Matter
What.
{M} .
YOU ARE READING
Aroma Breeze
Poetry" You treat them like they have a heart like you Soft and tender .. That's how you write . So beautifully , right !. Inside your head must be a forest and mountains . I believe !. So I told the stars about you . I'll sing until the miracle comes...
