-
a little past 3:00 am
when ghosts start...
-
Underneath a fallen star
dream catcher memories...
-
When the snow flurries
and the sun slices...
-
Only when trees shed
and winds shake...
-
Eventually, I will
depart from this land...
-
Poems bloom with warm sunrise,
nectar of words sweeten morning coffees...
-
-
Three small letters...
adding up...
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I used to want to
follow in your footsteps...
-
Oceans of barricades
and skies of fences...
-
When I stopped writing I
swallowed words...
-
Sitting opposite to a blue wooden window,
far enough so that breeze won't sneak on me...
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Stuck in isolation
for this virus thing is rife...