I think of her often. Sometimes in passing. Sometimes on the train. When I give my attention, She takes it. Or is it I who , go , seeking ?

Passing the hills, the long roads, the iron tracks, it all reminds me. These grassy hills, existed when I naught knew.

What journey am I taking? My eyes close in sleep. Maybe due to exhaustion.

I string together the thoughts of her. They well up in my eyes. My heart puts it to sleep.

I rest now. I think of the details of life. There are so many. When I grow old, I will think of her again. And it is I, whom my heart will put to sleep.