A well
full
of buckets...

his nature,
her poem.
.........
her nature,
his poem.

her memories
grazing quietly
on my grave....

Bicycle to Scooter
What happened?
Why all are crying?
Scooter, "Our girl met with an accident."
Bicycle, "Then she never going to touch us till..."
Scooter, "Yess! Me to going to miss her soft hand.."

My first-time
experience
in flight
Seeing land from
the sky
an awareness
It looks like
a vast Grave
for
all living things...