at memory.

it is very sad to tell you that most ever illiterate persons happened to read my love letters to you and presumed themselves to be messiah of what not. Notwithstanding that I am trying another poem for you may you like it.

I have heard
flowers are beautiful

I go to
sometimes
time at

some whisper

I make my best
to know
what they say

try hard

remember

what it

sometime
again

may be

I feel

short of
running


at memory