by J.Y. Lou
One window with Venetian blinds drawn,
another with curtains.
I can seldom read you.
But when I do,
you let escape a ray from the rising sun
or a living poem of a half-dried leaf wind-flung.
When you draw aside a breath of veil,
I glimpse the you in the centre of your 'verse.
A brief, short-lived view of
what could've been
but never will.
I so seldom see you now.
© 2009 J.Y. Lou
Listen to this poem:
A former worker in newspapers and magazines, J.Y. Lou is now an explorer of the simple, down-to-earth life.