A jasmine tree called my silence.
With a scent-full voice,
it cried:
“Write your love down!
Set your letters up high!
Free yourself!
Off sins,
off their seamless prison
and give life,
make my flowers bloom.


Hearken to your fingers,
-your heart-
Tame his smiles;
to melodies
upon your dreams.


Bedew your lips then,
with a few dewdrops of his eyes,
and smile him into paintings”.


My hands grew wearisome;
if, alone, I left you
ink on my notes.
Yet as you appear inside,
I return to you; crying
after days of pages