And holding hands while we were on the thin-mismatched picnic blanket set carefully on top of the hill.

I remember that I felt assured and joyful with your presence, finally being able to touch your predictable soft baby skin.

I remember beaming from ear to ear, knowing that this is what I want, this moment, to last forever and forever more.

And Nature’s animals roaming around us with neutral intent, with watchful eyes holding back the urge to interfere with the moment.

I remember taking in the Cherry Blossom Trees sweetful and refreshing aroma, attaching and lingering itself onto the tip of our noses.

And with the gusts of winds coming through, only then would I see the Sun's rays of truth, revealing the alluring color of your pulchritudinous ginger short-cut hair.

And I remember while continuing to admire every inch of you, you turned your gaze upon me with a soft smirk across your face.

I remember when seeing that little rare smile of yours, that your eyes glimmered, a way I've never seen before, and it crawled and creeped and craved my insides, my heart, making it flutter with absolute adrenaline.

Laying down on the comforting fabric of this picnic-blanket and turning my head with my eyes locked right onto yours, you disappeared, and Nature's animals came out from within distance to surround me, but that day is bound to come.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .

I was on the hill with that same mismatched picnic blanket, set so carefully beneath me, this time, by myself.

My eyes wandered around and about, looking, finding.
Could it have been you that I was looking for? Finding?

Here I stayed, patiently waiting for something, someone to arrive and change that state I was in. 

Do you know what it smells like?

Do you know what it looks like?

Do you know what it feels like?

Well that fence smells like birch-wood, it's rotting. 
The original color of the layers of white paint were peeling, curling and parts of it were now flying away in the wind. I knew they would never return, for now, they belonged to nature.

And that tree changed, its blossoms a bright-light pink. Remember? 
Well now it's an orangey autumn tone and it looks like you. Your hair. 
Your pulchritudinous, gorgeous, ginger short-cut hair. 
I will never forget it.

And that feeling...
you’ll never get close to imagining that.
Using human words~
It's like drowning, but you're alive during it. You feel almost numb in a way, but when you snap right back into reality, you wish you went back to that feeling of drowning. What are you even drowning in... What am I even drowning in?

It’s perhaps better to keep it that away from you like that. Since I have no clue as to how you feel.

Will the wind continue to caress my face ever so gently as it does.. Or how it did, I should say.

Will the flowers remain bloomed and keep its refreshing aroma lingered onto the tip of my nose? Yes, mine.

Will your predictable baby soft baby skin stay within my grasp? Hold it. Don't let go. Please?

Or, will you too, remain waiting for someone, something to arrive.

Were you even there?
Experiencing and enjoying the same small abundance of things that were present, that I had felt that day?