Now the season
to wave goodbye.
Another winter migration,
and our love takes
its leave.
But I still hear,
those morning cicadas.
And all your love returns to me.
As plum blossom scatters
on the spring wind.
When I look outside
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 