发信人: SlowRabit (慢吞吞的小白兔), 信区: Poetry
标 题: A mother
发信站: BBS 未名空间站 (Mon Dec 4 15:01:11 2017, 美东)
From a distance
It is a tree
With a large wound cutting through the trunk
Exposing the painful memory of a lightening strike years ago.
And yet one branch is still alive.
You can tell from the fruits it bears
Walking down the hill
It becomes a woman
Bending down to plant seeds.
Sprouts break the ground and quickly grow into vines.
They swirl around in the air
Covering her body with small hands and mouths
Turning her into an old basket.
And then I am a child
Floating in the space like a rainbow trout.
The sun twinkles dimly below.
A soft voice is humming lullabies from a distance
Fly away, my child, like a dragonfly.
※ 修改:·SlowRabit 於 Dec 4 15:03:19 2017 修改本文·[FROM: 199.]
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