Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Autumn Enso

Sitting here in your open palm
It seems like a dream
For the lotus I plucked only this morning
Now rests neatly in your hair
And all the trees of my private valley
Have bent to your approach

Even the moon has begun to circle
Closer, to light our meeting
All the world is before you, my love
In every way, it is your servant
And yet somehow
We see only each other

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