I have always felt like an anemone in a garden of mayflower .
Now when I think upon it , I can only remember ...
myself looking ,
while the little space I was residing in was filled with clitter and clatter of laughter and story tellers ,
at the door of my high school classroom ,
at the high gate of the large campus ,
at the streets outside from the car windows ,
at the entrance and exit way of the café downtown ,
at my bedroom glass windows ;
I can only remember myself looking at doors and windows ,
as if waiting for something to show up ,
someone to appear .
That wait still lives and lingers .
I wonder even if it'll come to an end one day ...