I will pick up the dust in
a swift scoop-from where...
Your frozen words float
like flakes...
You were born with
a golden tongue...
Searching in your
rainbow eyes...
Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears...
Not scared by stings
I will carry you in river to...
For image breaking
I exile myself...
Cause of things?
finding in myself in solitary...
Yearning to reach you
like out of body experience...
The trees grow tall and bushy green
The clear blue sky is seldom seen...
The clouds stalk the meadow leisurely
The skies changing into a deep, violent gray...
The moment of truth
for a flower seller...