Once when I was young, I chased amber sunsets in my rainbow bicycle along the green hills I called home. Oh! But the ding dong of my bike's sing song made Old Yueri chuckle boyishly.
Once when I was young, I'd fashion hairdos out of mama's precious muslin scarves and wear her black stilettos to wobble around the kitchen, much to Papa's delight and mama's exasperated mortification.
Once when I was young, the marigolds and the hyacinths in our backyard stood taller than me and I'd stare and stare in green envy till (I fancy) I morphed into them and grew flowers out my bedazzled orbs.
Once when I was young, I raced in glee to the mountain's call. Perched atop his shoulder, I cupped my hands and yodelled aloud my love and pranced in mirth to hear the birds the animals echo back their love to me.
And now I've outgrown the flowers. The mountains, I love, grow houses out of them. But should I meet a fairy who'd humour me, I'd like to go back to chasing butterflies barefoot under the golden autumn sun every dreamy eve.