One night, late, I woke up with the thought

that every moment is a point of no return,

and I became afraid.

A few hours before,

The pink-tipped flowers pinpointed

Their faces in the purple matte glass

And the farewell light

Of the bright, auburn sun

Made everything drastic –

I recalled

A while before

At the school I finally loved

And my teacher who cried at

The end of the day

Because we gave him meaning.

My mom once said

In their thirties

People look back

And their memories come to them.

I still have to recall

My memories

Because tonight, wherever I am tomorrow

I am not there yet

I'm not there,

Like my teacher who cried

At the end of school

A few hours before sunset

When I saw the fake flowers

And woke up in bed

Remembering that many things were over

And many begun

In the future when I don't

Have to call

For my memories to come to me.