thou whose story i shall remember
will you ever be cured from all those bittersweets?
like reddish orange sunrise, perfectly awaken from night
a bright morrow, that is
grasp thy air-bubbles
wield thy red vest
and sharpen thy pointed-glasses
a hope clings now, there is
shaken, and yet to bloom
like a fluttering hackney carriage
ever since the horse broke free
let it open, unlock thy red-brick door
and i will offer the four season day
Ajie
September 29, 2010
1:32 AM
