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Later in the day than in the afternoon I went out with my grocery bag I came out the side door of the ward The dark asphalt roads still smell of asphalt
By John Wilson9 months ago in Poets
Meeting is a beautiful word It's like love and youth Encounter is a moving word Like expectation and enthusiasm We always say we meet
You can admit it or not This grand sunset has nothing to do with you She is the pact between night and day Is the flow of time, is the transformation of identity
The traffic you see is an illusion. The neon lights are an illusion Everyone who is laughing tonight is an illusion Only autumn is real
I want to meet someone like you in the summer On the earliest days of July Then I will become a happy and blind poet In July, the prairie is full of wild flowers
Life is too hard I think my poetry could be sweeter Harmony of the five tastes of life It's like the sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty in the kitchen
Time is gentle, but inadvertently gone Your happy smile is still in my mind Your clear song is still around my ears It's time for you and me to wave goodbye
Open the window, the morning sunshine was met by me Sand meet, wind running also can not stop the spring, has come Popsicles are colorful and swaying in the wind
When a holy anthem is sung Wait for a cyan story to be told I will stand up Give you a wave Into your blind and sad body
Who says stones don't have soft hearts Who says the white clouds never fall Who says time has no end City lights mixed with a thousand kinds of laughter ten thousand kinds of loneliness
Today early in the morning The wind through the corner Through the rain in the sky Today, I'm going to the hospital A place that hurts
Birds bathe in their own songs The sound of flowing water from the leaf gap Sprinkling sparkling spray. I can't see them. My eyes are cobwebs of desire
