Stretching a crack to meet lights that blink,
Vibrating through doors as roses choke him sink.
She is byron' darkness between life and death,
Swords inside her burn his fear beneath.
Drops count the stream flips faster than a breeze,
Years fold a tree's road for beings to read.
Just walk, step down the staring flow,
Time turned, still that rose he always know.
The scent on her cheeks bees would embrace,
time beaten that deeper than a cloud could race.
So her lens shrink, post scent catch last bloom of spring,
"Oh dear" was shouted, his wine still has a taste of ring.
My love, poetics in you are stronger than a withered "girl",
My dear, my youth was post but reborn in your whirl.
(Here to write a poem, to celebrate my parents 25th wedding anniversaries.)
YOU ARE READING
Tigress from the east
PoetryA poetry collection written by a Chinese girl. Biggest life goal of her: sitting in perfect balance of daylights and nights, back towards a mysterious naked tree, a cup of chai is better than coffee. Thinking, turn a being as living
