There have been those days
That fall apart,
When I cannot stand
On this land;
As I waver in my heart
Though afresh I start,
My life tastes bland,
Filled with ashen greys—
There have been those days.
There are also days
That never end
When ambitions seem
Just a dream.
For the avenues that wend
Through the hues that blend,
They hold no scheme,
Just an endless maze—
There have been those days.
Memories come alive
In every photograph;
They take me back again
To sorrow or to laugh.
Reliving every moment
Captured in one scene,
Each picture bringing more
Of what the past has been.
Ah, those good old days!
When carefree lives we led.
A laugh, a skip, and trip, a hop,
At once my years are shed!
Come back again! Come back again!
Nostalgia seems to say;
The memories are fading fast
They’re fleeing far away.
A Letter: On A Morning, One Week After You Left
The garden's fence was dressed in morning glory.
One liverwort's crescent held its last gemma.
A cruciform blossom evoked the trilemma -
How can that Soul be sent to Upper Story?
The dampened soil was fresh with petrichor
(Which I discovered when the rain had stopped
Its long unceasing murmur; up I propped
The window in that room of vellichor
You always sit to read in when you come).
Beyond the fence, dew-dropped viridity
Was dancing on the spring-leaves of the Plum
One of my first songs ever. I started to write a poem, and the music started playing in my head, so call it lyrical poetry or call it a song, here it is. Dedicated to my old family.
I'm lookin' into those glassy eyes
of my family in that photograph
from a few years back.
The picture's worn and nearly black,
but I can still see our faces,
smiling as the camera flashed.
And I wonder when,
when we all grew up.
This is a picture of the baby broiler chicks I raised in 2003. It's early January, and the temperature outside the coop is probably in the mid-30s, so they've nestled together under the heat of a brooder lamp to stay toasty warm. I like this picture for how content and peaceful the birds look.
