Crouched beneath empty blocks of office
Two wrinkled hands formed of clay,
open the closed sky with gnarled fingers
eyes as beautiful as a Christmas girl's, without gifting, sob
Sometimes i really miss being a kid
Kids know no stress
Kids have no worries
Just a smile on our faces soft as petals of the frangipani,
nature enjoys us as much as her simplicity
But now I am stressed
Occupied with enough worries
And sometimes I look back at the past
And wish I was still in kid

I’ve never received a rose,
Cuz I think I am a rose.
In reality, I'm a frangipani.
Grow up in a grave.
planted by a liar.

At Vernal equinox, the Sun crosses
over the plane of the Earth’s equator
and equalises the night and the day.
Then will the Emerald Dragon awaken
from his hibernation beneath the earth.
Rising in the jade forests of Ghizhou,
this yin creature transforms the cold, dead land.
Primal and powerful, he gathers the Qi;
melts the mountain snows to ribbons of fire
igniting the frosty hillsides to growth,
fuses each thing with verdant energy,
revives again the seed, renews the bulb,
sprouting tender shoots juice-rich and sap-full
Shy blossoms set to bloom and burst with fruit
Fresh scented breezes ruffle foliage
maiden ferns shiver with their thrill and ******
Grasses and reeds bedewed and beryline,
murmuring and humming low and dulcet,
dancing and swaying at the river’s edge.
Roots of every tree draw deep from the earth
Magnolia and Frangipani breathe
and pant out fragrant honeyed lusciousness
Spring sparks and quickens, kicks and is alive.

© M.L.Emmett