The little boy has cloudy eyes, yet no tears ever fall. 

The little boy often hides his voice behind a faint smile. 

The little boy grew into an adventurer, 

Singing along with the howling storm, 

Fighting the thunder that echoed across the sky, 

Confronting the sun that burned the horizon. 

The little boy has bones of steel. 

The little boy could be anything those...

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Dear Mom... 

Every morning, the warm scent of rice from the cooker stirs me awake, 

The rhythmic echo of your footsteps, back and forth,

Followed by the sound of boiling water pouring over coffee in a cup,

Truly, it becomes a harmony I always long for, 

And, a melody I always wish to hear,

It is etched clearly in my mind.

Dear Mom... 

Your voice through the phone...

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