On My Way Back Home

The setting sun is turning

From white, yellow to sea-rose red,

As folks living in Eastern world

R still snuggling in bed.

I have amplified my strength

Three hundred times,

I have wished 2 be as novel as spring water

With No plotted crimes.

Over the past decades,

I have been holding my breath, appearing clever,

Now, I let go of my world

So that it rolls down the hill into the river.

On my way back home,

My attention waxes and wanes no more,

Follow the path from one to another,

I let the unsubscribed nature decorate my door.


Return to the nature and be one in the universe is kind of reunion 2 me.

This is an entry 4 (Reunion) Writer’s Island

I also enter this piece for Monday Poetry Train Revisited:


Happy Saturday!

😉 😉 😉