There is a blossom grows,
in a land that,
moist and humid yet
crouch whose roar.
There is a light sighs,
beneath the south,
spice with cinnamon rise,
dip of chai in sooth.
How sweet, saree swings softest song.
How far! Winds leap my brace and sail to south.
I look down to toes,
they
in a quiet, tidy tenderness,
then,
maturing the same fearless eyes.
So, now how far is the sea?
Hang a mirror, you and me,
weaving from east to south, then see,
roots sing in nightingale's mouth.
(Special poem for the special one❤️happy birthday, Maesha from Bangladesh!)
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
