I am an island, I’m a grave
of past lives. Make the sound from cave
appeal to better outer world
and pass the way, too long and curved,
and bless my lonely stormy night
from which I ran at speed to bright
and saving mornings, failed and weak.
I learnt how hard it was to speak
to you, without being ignored.
I am an island, with a cord
of flesh and blood attached to land
on which you live,
on which you stand.
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© Copyright: Жень Шень 713, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117101400195
Свидетельство о публикации №117101400195
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