Still green water
with the shadow of a red bridge,
still green leaves
of tree branches that kiss the lake,
couples, families, friends, strangers, locals, and foreigners alike,
walking along and crossing paths,
in parka, muffler, and boots,
the subtle breeze of chill from the water,
the foggy sky of
november afternoon---
All these and more one Hoan Kiem Lake afternoon.
YOU ARE READING
No Rhymes, Just Rhythms of My Own
Poetrya storage of loud and silent outbursts---of any known human emotions. Mere compilation of previously published individual poems and newly inspired creations.
