Spring sunlight stir,
sipping sweet syrup.
Each step, the birth of
an awful promise.
Just move past footprints.
Above the moon shines,
and the lotus blooms.
I cup my ears,
to hear the first cuckoo call.
A cool breeze,
sweeps my path.
Who am I?
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 