3 am
I wake to a thump
in the attic
where ghosts of the past
...
her last question
'how can you make a life
out of mere words'
reverberates in the dark…
...
moonlit branches...
glazed with autumn rain
droplets of me
...
bullfrog chorus...
I practice saying
I love you
...
one cherry petal
falling upon another...
a new ‘old dream'
...
thoughts of Taiwan...
I place mom's homemade pillow
towards the moon
...