Thursday, January 30, 2014
Let Days Run Monotone In The Course of Times
Are you having a quality time?
Do you remember home at all?
Everywhere in the field,
I see skinny vines of your forehead,
the folded lines of stubbornness.
I know I's fussing too much,
"Perfect" love has no body in this country,
The New Mexico mulberry is turning to ash,
Are you sure
you must stay away?
Nature turns cold at midnight,
An abyss for some,
Flower garden for the rest,
I will walk toward green oblivion,
let its kindness lull me to Heaven!