51. poem number 44.

When time is right for embark?
when it's touching the skyline
or grawl from the beginning to the end

Then I wouldnt see all these countrysides,
quiet wobble of the forests.
I would never hear the love songs of birds,
how creatures from fairytales are hiding under
the heavy veil of mist

How could I jump on the ride in the end
and sail just for the goodbyes
Then it would never feel like home
Many ripples past unheard
and like a robber
i would try to steal the memory long gone.