Dear Wanderer,

dear wanderer,
who packed a pair of shoes on a bottom of the big backpack and got them dirty in the next ten minutes,
what does rain look like there? is it a group of falling yarn or a swarm of beads coming from the sky?
from the gazing spot you made, could you recognize the brightest star of orion– rigel?

dear wanderer,
would you telling me the taste of silence in the most crowded place you visit,
could you differ your loudest thought and the giggle of a city?
tell me the color of sunset you see with the teary eyes, which trees that help you stand strong when your knees are shaking because of cold or anger or unbearable guilty?

your dreams are the time machine where I could probably mention how old your soul is.
oh dear wanderer, on a completely serious note,
i think that possibly maybe i am adoring you. this big.

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