Do you remember the
merry-go-round by the pier.
Your hair waving in
a wind of colours.
You tantalized me
with your smell of happiness.
I shook at the touch of fresh flesh.
My pale skin tone beginning to blush.
In another place, the sad wind
continued to slaughter the sweet
sounds of the cicadas.
But I was only concerned,
with kissing the tears of
happiness from your eyes.
And washing you all over,
with my words.
A Wandering Poet 