Orange
Where I was born was a planet
Round as an orange
As I sit in front of a rectangular window
Staring into the flurry of sunlight
Pouring over white tiles of squares
I hear a cat purring at me
In its gingerbread fur
A yellow circle falls, which is
Round like an orange
Recent Posts
See AllMy pen is laced with the sound of birds chirping in the moist air of March. Sitting on a bench in my made-in-China and Japanese-designed sweater, I feel like a troubled monk. All my senses are still f
What lasts in this world when nothing lasts at all? Is that to say we can ignore the mundane aspects of life for the sake of passion? Does it seem strange to think that one needs more than passion to
I was trained to care and not to care about certain things in the world And they call that —Knowledge.