A poem that came to me in a dream.
This autumn,
a southern wind
lightly blows
around my face.
No season,
for growing old.
So kiss me,
and once again
grow fragrant.
We can see the moon
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 