Wei river –
plum blossom wildfire
on the banks.
Each wave,
a slow parting.
I follow spring,
a traveller by name.
Web – torn
from northern rocks.
A sweet song
of attachment.
Memories of the time I live
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 