Looking into the window, 

I see little, clear and cool drops of water.

On the lonely street, holding hands of each other 

walking mother and daughter. 

The little red rubber boots step on puddles, 

reflecting the golden-red crown of the trees.

The fresh breeze swings blonde mom’s curls. 

She tries not to drop an umbrella 

Because her daughter pulls her hand further.

The wet leaves stick to the boots, 

Their red, yellow and orange colors

cover the ground with a colored mosaik.

The damp smell of fallen leaves sings about fall. 

The rain sounds like the flute melody,

And I fall into my memory.

My dark-pink raincoat and softly-pink beret

My little burgundy boots run on dry autumn leaves 

And my mom...

She’s asking me to stop

Her thin long fingers hold the old-fashion camera

Which tries to catch my sight.

It was one of my favorite days of my life to be a child.

Now I’m 16. I’m not that girl 

I will never turn these days back

It’s my past. And, maybe, my mom thinks that I 

Don’t want to spend time with her,

But mom, I want you to know…

I still love you.