My Picture Taken this evening at my favourite cafe. Xinxiang, China.

Inside this place,
trying to make sense
of the winter season.
Once denying age had no meaning.
Summer afternoons
and snow on moss,
a lifting mist across the canal.

Now, a slow autumn swing
and sounds of night trains
turn the clocks ahead.
Under a deep violet sky,
the sunlight splits.
And bears down
on a darkness so deep.