A Truth
Missing you is like —
Sitting in the terrace at 7 AM, waiting for the sunshine with a cup of coffee on the right hand while the left’s playing Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat Major, Opus 9, No. 2 on your grandfather’s phonograph.
Take slipper away then come to the garden. Feel quite amused when your feet touched the grass. Wet— but fresh. Dance through rhythm and melody on it. Pirouette against the air and sigh— that sounded quitely like a whisper — by it touched your face.
Come close to a tree , a rose tree—yet you remember it’s a birthday gift which has been becoming your most favorite in the garden , or precisely, on earth like how you told me once in our past fine dining. Touch the droplets on one of it’s leaves, make the moistures fall down to your foot. Cold.
See your own shadow on the grass, a sign the sun has finally walked out. Turn away your face to the east and squint your eyes at the sun that starts appearing.
And suddenly, you smile.
Therefore, here is the truth—
Missing you is always simply happy
I don’t mind, to do it
Because in the end, I’m pretty sure i’ll see it
The sun shines so bright, along your smile which is as beautiful as moonlight
