My sweet childhood nights,
Under the silver moon,
Counting stars, sleeping on the rooftop.
Fresh fragrant of grandmother’s jasmine flowers,
Fills my head again.
Steeling ripe and tender grapes,
Following the flock of home doves, from this house to the other.
Like dancing a silk cloth in the wind.
Memories prancing in my heart again.
Surrounded by all the emotions
Is this real?
Or just a dream?
My heart is pounding
butterflies flutter from my fingertip
This must be an illusion.
Butterflies fill the air
with dismay and sorrow…tion
Of all chains and strings
Someday, my soul sprout
With every blossom
I will get closer
And closer
I look up in the sky,
where are the stars?
Wishing have to wait another night
I guess.
Then, sterling moon melts on my hair
down to my heart.
No need for stars.
My heart is an ocean,
dreaming of the pools with many gold fish,
waiting for the time to tell
the sacred hour:
New Year is here, New Year in now!
Mahsa Arts 