Monday, November 14, 2011
Yakushima mountain
this pure water
like sweet wine
the closest to
the touch of your lips
sakura
Adorned with wires
and old grey towers
sakura
petal after petal
a tree paints itself
on the tarmac
shushushushu
the sound of my toothbrush
morning gatha
Moon faced Buddha, sun faced Buddha
plum blossoms
all along
Don't wave your fan too much
written poems may
fly away
Your flutter wakes me up
and you flicker away
Moth
2 Comments:
welcome back
never too far.
Thank you
Taigu
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