Not The Same Glimpse

So if you are here

Before I was,

You have already seen

That bird that I could 

Only get the glimpses of.

But how closely did you notice it?

I did not hear it flap its wings

Nor could I guess its eye colour.

Maybe I would not even recognise

Its song, if I hear it ever again.

But I remember its tail,

The way it glided and swooped

A tiny yellow feathered entity

That went into the green 

Who chose to let me

See its last glimpses.

Sometimes, I look back, ahead and 

All the possible places

Trying to stand on the same place 

I guess I did see the yellow flecks

Among the wilderness, obviously

Not quite the same as the first one.

I get kind of used to this,

Not that I like doing it, but that

Is the least efforts I could put in.

The way I look out for the 

Past feeling and terms that 

Got lost in the time without 

Fully revealing themselves.

Sometimes, I catch those glimpses 

Of the same old emotion

In them, in me, but I try to

Push away, so do they

For it is not the same.