As my shutter lazily closes after a last click, I faintly sketch your portrait at the back of my mind. It is your story I capture every night of my childhood sleep. The ones who put me to sleep tell of so many stories and my sleep takes me to where you are.
There fly in white wings a wind invisible. My shutter need not open to capture you nor can any mirror ever reflect your smile. No light need ever pass through your lucid crystal eyes that lightly gaze in tranquil yet bizarre way. There are no mountains to block any light thus any shadow to sleep on ground. No need to walk anymore and no footsteps to lament by.
The time I spent in the angel’s home by myself seems like a togetherness of a lifetime of a misplaced moment with a company of many a young days. It is the only place I see a smile, a smile that kept me smiling by. A smile I inherit a thousand miles. It is there where I learned the many I come to know. How the wind hold me nowhere. Those white wings carry me over greenery where no craven boundary defines me.
Floating in the air, my veiled colourless quill carries me over nowhere. The place is deep within me, where someone someday can fly through. Come my wind in white wings and carry me over that same place where I once flew. Come my bright angel in serene light and steer me over greenery once again. Flap those invisible wings and arrive at this moment so still to sketch your smile once again.
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