Season Of Breath

In the season of breathe
The first poem of autumn
Slowly like a dancing raindrop
Over the rooftop of my starry night

With my fingertip I write my own fiction
Coloring the image with brilliant red
You at the far end, whispering
And I try to interpret words, silence
An endless sky for us


This is like a dream
This is like a dream

Don’t worry
I’m not waking up….
Monday, January 7, 2008
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3/6/2021 5:15:47 AM # 1.0.0.510