You always disappear
like Dandelions on a sunspot-filled road...
I am seeing this man lately
and it isn't even the 16th century...
Reminiscences of you
always come back to me...
How would I write about you
when in every rain...
Why I always come back to you?
Might be the night breeze...
In the
orient seas...
In the nick of time,
deciphered melodies fall...
Like the moon,
I don’t have enough lucency...
To know that
Manila cannot hold...
A brown paper
encourages me to write...
A one-man band
plants white Camellias...
I find it unusual
to be reading recipe books...