when nothing is right

like the rain

falls at the wrong season

a full moon on a wrong night

bright sunny day on the wrong date

the rainstorm had gone
my wishes lost

on the last few minutes
on the day before
the last day
of the sixth month
in the twelfth year
of this century

hope flickered
and then
none at all

i could be many things
only
whether i would
or i just wont

conversations we treasure
were those
of words
stolen from each other's lips

i am afraid if
i would not remember
what it was like

when you are here

that i forget
how warm was your hands