For one more day.

All you hear is raindrops
Trickling down the white canopy
Footsteps coming close, passes by
As hands finding their ways
Patting your drained, fragile frame
They wouldn’t know and it doesn’t matter
One by one, as concerned eyes leave
Life goes on all the same
But what else remains the same?
When the only thing you wish is..
For one more day.
They wouldn’t know and it doesn’t matter
One day you’d learn to shed tears of sorrow
And you’ll know it’s fine to feel something
But what else remains to be felt?
When the one and only thing you want is..
For one more day.

Silence any song.

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

-A minor bird, Robert Frost.

Sometimes, it is equally important to seek solitude to figure things out. Not just immersing yourself into the deep current of encouragement and motivations.

But at times like this, solitude becomes a luxury.


Only me.

it’s raining outside
slow, rhythmic drops on the roof
unceremoniously blending in
along with the whispers of pen against paper
as thoughts swirl and twirl, weaving words
time slows down, creeping pass quietly
i put my pen away
keeping the little book away
curl up into a small being
listening as the rain pours
time slows down, creeping pass quietly
i stood up and walk to the window
stars lit up the dark sky
and the earth smell of fresh dry leaves
it’s only me.