Drifting like white clouds,
I walk the path in an old temple.
The dust, the sunshine,
the river breeze –
fragile over life.
In an empty space,
I sit down to write some words.
The voice of a lingering love.
Zen Life Poem # 23
Drifting like white clouds,
I walk the path in an old temple.
The dust, the sunshine,
the river breeze –
fragile over life.
In an empty space,
I sit down to write some words.
The voice of a lingering love.
A Wandering Poet 