Slamming her door to mark a shut end,
Is the fading heat flow away.
Charm and vibes stir in breezy sand,
Fist closed yet black lenses will not say.
Crouch down on a piece of Chinese silk,
Touch forth to grab some prawn back,
Perhaps winkles in skin lives like wilk,
Or mom' s sunshine on her pack.
Years blow erosions on Phoenix tree,
How many rings does she step by?
Inches of oasis in thee,
Indeed is her youth and fly.
And now here is a fire inside the wind
Pride and rising head will be daughter's wing.
(Here is my new sonnet for my dearest mom, return to China and her daughter keep her study in London. There will be an ocean like distance between us, but with her love as my wing, mountains and water will crack down under my boots.)
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
