The Song of Spring: Stay a Little Longer

Flirting with spring as autumn watches in the distance. (I love this season though!)

The author “ignores” the camera while holding a twig as a substitute for a hiking stick.

Spring begins to bloom in this room —

scents of lush green begin to preen,

seducing my blind nose,

awakening my sluggish veins.

Orris, honeysuckle, and tuberose —

in sugary flirtation, they beckon

to the queens of ants and bees.

My skin blooms under fairy powder;

it makes honey and butter swoon.

If there were any butterflies,

they would have swallowed me whole.

I am floating on a bed made of Cupid’s feathers,

pink cotton, and moonlight beam.

Soft and serene, my bed sighs beneath me,

lulling me to the deep dungeons of sleep.

Dewy skin and musk-scented hair —

a scented candle imprinting the wind.

Last year, I was lucky enough to spend the quarantine surrounded by beautiful nature. I used to sit under a naked tree, writing poems from afternoon to evening. This poem, which I wrote after I went back to the city, depicts my longing for those days and my reunion with that tree months later.

Painting In The Dark

I Am A Snail, I Know

Remember The First Orange Leaf

Nothing Rhymes

🍂 Thank you for reading 🍂