This is my last poem written in Hong Kong. Tomorrow, my odyssey continues. I will fly to Shanghai….and continue my quest 🙏

Autumn loses face,
on a windswept broom.
Even here in Hong Kong.
A desire for comfort,
but only mourning.
Leaving the world spinning.

To the east, distant
hills in silent colour.
Their image, burnt
into into my soul.
A wave moves,
peace and quite reigns.
A kind of paradise.
And the nearest thing
to being alive.