There were those fleeting moments of pure light, unfiltered by negative thoughts.

They are rare.

They rarely come even if chased down the narrow alley.

How I wish those moments can be frozen.

For they are liquid,

slipping out of my hands when I try to hold them.

Yes, I want to freeze them like a fraction of time captured in a photograph.

So I can have something solid to linger my touch on

when everything disintegrates into smoke,

dimming the morning sun.