One night,
A coat,
Baseball cap,
Rain came,
Also the wind,
In a road,
In a lonely town of Glan,
I am a kid,
I read,
On a darkly room library of Notre Dame,
I walked,
On still silence,
Hands on my Pocket,
The way the big guy do,
With a cane on their left arm,
Choleric lamp post,
Step by step,
Into a narrow passage of long walk in the cold,
The frog scurried off,
Cricket roared,
The thunder growled,
And I stopped,
Near the massive acacia,
The errand ceased,
Fading echoes,
A quite world,
For a boy,
Laid on a white wash bench,
Poking the rolled comics on my front pocket,
I saw Pleiades,
Stared back on my lonely face.


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