Reflections in Miniature: Eighty-Five

1. This very hand, perhaps,
is the path
to letting go!

2. Cigarette smoke
leaves behind
roses, one by one.

3. In the folds of pages,
in the grooves of memory,
life's melody plays and plays.

4. Each fallen petal
of the melancholy rose
abandons the city.

5. The mind is so restless!
It plunges into
daydreams!

6. In the old man's toothless jaw,
grapes vanish
into raisins.

7. Fragmented desires
gradually shatter
the full moon
of purnima.

8. In spring's gentle breeze
mingles not only
the scent of roses,
but of cigarettes too.

9. A holiday;
rain outside;
fire within.

10. Cool, soft breeze;
in summer's new dress,
trembling nipples.

11. Even after twenty-one springs,
flowers have leisure;
the bee
never came.

12. Even through the river's murky water
stones are visible,
where the clear ribbon
of a bra has caught.

13. Long before returning,
long after departing,
she was there.

14. From the warmth
of your lips
falls
the coolness of melody.

15. At this life's sunrise,
only the shadow of ruins
tells stories.

16. The camera in hand
rises on a drone and says,
only the red flower is yellow.

17. Sturdy window;
all night...
rain doesn't enter,
heat does.

18. Stale lips
kiss away
the staleness.

19. Running toward home,
I see
the high walls of captivity.

20. In the body's heat—
sun, rain, cold...
all three flee!