Thursday, July 29, 2010

The imagination of contemporary poet

For years the way goes north  
And turns away till its round 
Thousand of hundreds it may take 
For the right word to be found 
It comes to a master piece  

And the world will cherish his memories  
The years may change so may the seasons 
Leaves may die, get a new life, and fill out the naked trees 
Yet he smiles his way in the white floor With his dynamic thoughts and hands 
For it may be just a while Until again he joins his fellow sands

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