The Attached World

When I see a tree

I see me reading

I feel like climbing

I recall photosynthesis

I remember tree kiss

I imagine a giant dancer

I face fairy’s mother


When I sip my coffee

I remember nights writing

I long for the casual fling

I see book I drop staint on

I feel the weight I carry on


When I hear Beatles’

I feel like running

I recall time I first learned English

I remember my shaky English

I imagine Ringo’s big nose

I face a door closed


Could a tree be merely a tree? Could a cup of coffee taste only on our taste sensory? Could a band song show not their story?


We’re aging, collecting memory, accumulating experience, shaping the lens through which we view our entire time span, crafting perception.


We pass the road, hear a song, read phrases.  carrying weight of story!

We watch movie, play a game, write letters. How deadful it would be, drown deep in memory!


I keep walking,  rewrite, replay; to have them all redefined, new lens shaped, the old gradually dissolved throughout the  passing time.

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