Pomegranate Poem by Charles WOO

In a high building, I enjoy the breeze and scenery.
I am caught by the carmine fruits of the pomegranate tree.
Graceful wind caresses its leaves looking vividly green.
The fruits are so abundant that all its branches lean.
Its red tube flowers are prepared to contend in beauty.
Nodding each other, its buds bend forward briskly.
People deem it as a symbol of mass production.
Those who pick its fruits are the jumping naughty children.

Chinese paintings & calligraphy about all Charles Wu's poems

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