ONE

On rainy and sad days of October,

Ba would drive the car to the forest

High up on the mountain,

Where the green trees sway and whisper under the patting of the rain

Where the soil is soft and brown and wet

Where the air is cleansed and pure and cold

Where both of us would drive through a loopy road

With the windows down

Fog envelopes our small Bettle,

Cloud slips between my fingers, leaving a tang on my tongue.

"Look, do you see,

There is Mom, there, at the cloud?"

"Where? Where?"

"There, there. That is Mom waving at you."

"I cannot see her."

"I think she's saying something."

"What's she saying?"

"Mom says she loves you, very, very much." He would say. "She's there, darling. She would always be there, looking out for you.

She would always be there, waiting for you

Waiting for us."

TWO

On rainy and sad days of October,

Ba would drink and cry when he think I was asleep

His strong copper tang replaces by the acrid smell of beer and tears

His gigantic hands curl into tight, shaking fists

His loud, cheery, steady voice broken into crumbs of sobs.

"Ba? Why are you crying?" I would ask from the darkness

And he would gasp sharply, turn, sniff, wiping his red face on his sleeve

"Hey," He would say in a soft, gentle tone. "Go to sleep, darling. It's late."

"Why are you sad, Ba?"

He stands and smiles at me through his thick bear and kisses me on the forehead,

Then he tucks me in bed and hugs me tight.

"It's nothing. I just miss Mom, that's all."

I pat his gruff cheek. "It's alright. Mom wouldn't like it if you cry."

"No, she wouldn't."

"Remember, Ba, Mom says she loves you, very, very much. She would always be there, looking out for you.

She would always be there, up in her castle on the cloud,

Waiting for you"

Sometimes, Ba would break down in front of me

As he nods frantically.

"Yes, she's always be waiting for us."

THREE

It's a rainy and sad day in October,

And Ba was driving the car to the forest

High up on the mountain.

The green trees sway and whisper under the patting of the rain

The soil is soft and brown and wet

The air is cleansed and pure and cold

And there's only us alone on this loopy road.

"Mom's at the end, darling," Ba says, and I roll the window down.

Fog envelopes our small Bettle, and cloud slips between my fingers.

"She has always been there

Waiting for us."