To Be Written In Your Stories

"Ling, come closer... please." A somber voice ranged in a dark, damped room.

Another voice appeared, this time a sigh. A sigh that was as delightful as the morning birds but equally as sad as the first one.

Foot steps shifted in the dark room as Ling sat closer to you. She gently caressed your exhausted and worn-out face and said nothing as if she was waiting to hear your request.

"Ling, please. Please, let me live in your stories, your poems, your songs. Let me be apart of of this land, this music this dream."

She chuckled as she slowly kissed your cheeks.

"Your wish really didn't change did it?"