A tiny little book reads
like collecting every piece of the crumb
As birds' rapid eyes
screen for the lost home
I researched the book
And had barely found
The sweetest look
between a touch and a mind
The parsley grows every year
below the window like a spell
The rain cries every tear
only a chimney can gently tell
It was a rainy day
with a full taste of the past memories
And the smell swirled away
in grasses, flowers, and trees