it's july.
the wind softly blows, 9am.
at midday when the sun peaks, i can't think of anything.
5pm walk to the cemetery. there's moss on the forgotten tombstones.
15 minutes at 8pm for dinner preparation. 
by 10pm you slide slowly in my head.
12am, missing your touch.
i slip into dreams. 1am. time to see you.


still walking, still walking.