Peter Lee

Finally comes the peace, rests the fluctuation
And, genteelly, wanes the beats.

The finger across the grip settles;
...

On the desk, the bottle stands.
Slowly drops the tear the lid
Failed to grab.
...

Thou passed by, thy smile dancing,
But, look, the sun gave up its light
Where Night arrived.
Thy ivory face's hiding.
...

Those words, they're far more
To build a wall standing.

They block the first month
...

Flicking tears, through the gap of two pieces
Curtains, spilled on the rosewood,
Fleeting toward the deep.
...

They spun around chagrined,
Wailed through windows blue,
Those that swung with wind.
...