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:
😉 😉 😉