Tuesday, January 14, 2014


I was sitting by my window 
Silently staring on the moon 
She is very lovely tonight 
Like an iris of my eye 
Well she has always been very wonderful to me 
Beside me is my table 
With a blank sheet and a sleeping pen 
Unlike the moon the sheet is pure 
My heart has no more to paint on it 
Beside the sheet is a tearing vase 
With roses of falling season 
I was not sure where I put them 
Deep into that venomous water 
Just on the foot of the vase is a ring 
That glints after moon hides 
From the dark blanket on the sky 
That ring was once worn by the moon 
Even the roses were once hers 
The sheet is empty because 
That is the last page of our story I’ve once wrote…  


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