meeting you face to face
you seem to hide yourself
behind a fog in another world
separated by the pacific in between
you often look like the flower
blooming on my window ledge
have a blue dream
and you will see a little cloud
drifting around like me
near that borderline
I have packed you up tightly
into my backpack, the luggage
I cannot consign, or sent by mail
but carry it with me
close to my chest
you are neither light
nor heavy, but you will
occupy a solid space
in the closet of my heart
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