A poem I wrote this morning.

A warm sweet sunlight,
gently creeps
into Kaohsiung city.
Another simple familiar tune,
lingering with gentle love.

What have we left, now?
The passion of a homesick child,
the innocent faith of a poet –
no longer belonging to the alter.
Both turning to face the rain.

I return to my happy days here,
to drive away my loneliness.
The beautiful ladies,
and morning clouds –
that come to my side.
The crowd of umbrellas
and fragile faces,
a slow drift in deep water.

And all of us,
drink from the beginning –
to enlarge the circle.
A ladder to the sun
and language of dreams.
A life framed by sadness,
that isn’t