I heard the rain dripping on lime spring meadow,
I heard the school bells ringing in a familiar tune,
but I couldn’t hear your voice calling my name still,
Why didn’t I realise meeting you was the best thing
in my life? Maybe I was busy dreaming and weeping,
busy chasing the shooting stars from that distant sky,
It was only excusable we humans became so forgetful,
forgotten the one who stood beside through the rains,
in cottony silence and cold feet, blossoming in secrecy.
Youth is a thorny journey in which we stumble along,
Possessing hindsight, and tossing its beauty behind.
Ever recall our fervent vows to against the world, those
guts to be one devilish rebel demanding King's ransom?
As the river stones were listening, and the old white oak
leaning closer, still memory of long tropical years asleep
in the land where sunny daisy and jasmine elegantly wild.
Yet it turned out you were the luck I want to keep the most.
Your spunkiness embroidered in all shades of gold and ivy,
A wavelet, you left a circle in water for a few brief moments,
A raindrop, you poured a pearl from cliffy sky into my eyes,
A song, you mischievously reached me at about arm length.
It turned out that you were the luck I want to keep the most.
Somewhere above the glisten horizon where I can’t glimpse,
Where a gentle breeze resting upon your sun-kissed cheeks,
I know you are spreading out wings to embrace your destiny,
calling the fragments of our soul to brave this one last voyage,
carrying my blessings to the jasmine field only you will name.
— To my younger self, an impish sweetheart