The Cold Waiting Season

I asked: “where have you been my whole life, Jon Cartwright.”
As I watched a square dispersing a thousand rays of light to my eyes.
I fell freely inside your land
Through a window without a glass.

They weren’t windows; they were frames.
Frames that transported me to an enchanted city too far away
Every time I spelled your name
What a wonderful way to lose oneself.

As more as I contemplated them
I wondered what your thought were or what was in your head.
I felt like if I knew you for a long time
Even when I knew nothing of your mind.

Meet you in a park. Joint you one day in your walk.
It is too much to ask.
There should be nothing further than my land in your head.
We are two strangers with different mind,
Different eyes in unknown lands sharing images.

Now, many other names shine on the screen.
Admiration. They all are deservers of it.
The world has plenty of lands still to be seen,
Which have earned my esteem.

Still, you own the first sight that caught my mind.
The admiration of my eyes for your frames will not easily go away.
I’ll always open your page again.

I don’t know who you are or what you really see
But a favor I ask ye.
Don’t stop shooting. Don’t give up the posting in here.
Never stop to see.
For your work, at the other side of the world, as a thanked dweller, I’ll see.