A diary that got wet in the rain last night is drying fast..
I'm Wondering if I should make a trip to the memoir..
I turned a few pages with my left hand..
Ink has spread on the paper..
Like blue clouds in white sky..
Few words lost; even their impression gone from the paper..
I close my eyes to recollect what could have been written there..
On a few pages, even dates washed away..
I can't even identify them in my memories..
Butterflies playing in my heart; while I'm missing the old days...
And I am cursing myself..
What if I could have saved this diary from the rain last night..