This is my last visit to the park in February. 

I know – 

I’m here to hear all her complaints. 

Clouds in the sky press heavily upon the earth, 

Squeezing with each other, vying for space. 

The howling wind – 

Pushes slender twigs sideways. 

She says, 

I want to bond with him again. 

Do you know it? 

I think I don’t. 

Yet my forearm clenched by her left hand knows. 

She ceases to speak. 

Finally, I get a clear front view of her shoe. 

The glossy shoe upper is spotlessly clean, 

Stably absorbing and reflecting rays in the gloomy day. 

Out of courtesy, 

I decide to raise my head. 

It’s hard to ignore her lips, closed in a split second. 

Is it the lips that affect the whole facial expressions? 

Absolutely. 

I see other facial organs growing out of her mouth, 

Beginning to roll into a mass 

Suddenly – 

They stopped. 

Neatly-arranged facial organs pop up into my eyes. 

She asks, 

Are you still listening? 

My blinked eyelids are the reply. 

Obviously, she noticed it, 

While just keep walking ahead. 

Myriad noises, wrapped in unruly wind, rush into my ears. 

Her receding figure and the story of him blend into the park, 

Keeping company with the smooth paths, 

Newly-sprouted twigs, 

As well as the singing birds. 

A large goose flies overhead, 

Circling around. 

She says,
His belly is as white as the goose.