To the Moon ,

Tis the latter half of the year
All the promises and resolutions I made
at the beginning ,
have already dispersed in the whirlwind ,
whisked away like the year before
like what the wicked morning light does to you
And the new years day feels so far far away

The snowflakes I gathered during January are out of stock
And now the grey rainy days have come
The sunshine I bottled during the summer has expired
Soon the black winter would come

Then the pocket of promises would play haunting games...