If you were me
You would hear the trees whisper about yesterday's sunlight.
You would ride the paths that the butterfly's wings carved in the wind
If you were me
You would cry when the villains among fatal pages perished
You would devour the cream between the two halves of an Oreo
Leave the rest untouched on a triangular plate.
If you were me
Your temper would swoop to the peaks of the mountains and back
And still would not tire
If you were me
You would be a bouquet of contradictions
That guests politely smelled and placed
In the unused room on the second floor
They didn't understand.
If you were me, you wouldn't either.
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in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)