A walk outside and a moment with a stranger, who told me about his ‘difficult life’. I wrote this poem.

I met a man in Kaohsiung,
he sat next to me.
The smile of a stone Buddha,
and a solitary spring – he
wrote some words.
He looked hungry,
and talked to the wind.
So, we had cake and coffee.
And I thought…
what we think, we become.
But slowly, slowly.