I am an inpatient student in his fourth grade,
Watching for the school clerk in olden days,
Who rings a bell after every hour,
And I counted the final bell after noon.
That is my waiting for you in your late shift,
Holding my cell phone, for an sms of your coming.
As soon as you appear,
On the other side of the internet wall,
Breaking through the frequencies and waves,
I smile at you with a folded paper in hand,
Just as I welcomed you in an airport,
Holding a bouquet of flower in my back.
And you know what I hold in secret,
It's the gift for the day, a 'poem of love'
Watching for the school clerk in olden days,
Who rings a bell after every hour,
And I counted the final bell after noon.
That is my waiting for you in your late shift,
Holding my cell phone, for an sms of your coming.
As soon as you appear,
On the other side of the internet wall,
Breaking through the frequencies and waves,
I smile at you with a folded paper in hand,
Just as I welcomed you in an airport,
Holding a bouquet of flower in my back.
And you know what I hold in secret,
It's the gift for the day, a 'poem of love'
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