This willowed road
that looks...
Ne'er saw I, never felt,
the sun did more gracefully...
I have come to the wonder of life.
Some say it's beauty...
Your brilliance used to stain
this broken town with orange...
The first time
I saw...
Reveries are too sad to hide beneath your skies,
melancholies are too fragile to hear your cries...
Again, June came -- uninvited,
shadows glimmer as I think about...
He was a curator
who speaks softly about...
Your footsteps are never meant
to decorate this lonely alleyway...
I used to find
your eerie smell on the staircases...
Sunset, I've known you for so long --
a distant mirage, a forgotten song...
When I was ten,
I wrote a poem about Daisies...