Literature

Literature

Stillness filled blank pages in bound diaries
Memories carefully preserved in blue ink
Heart’s expression without force or dramatic flattery
Stop swimming to descend into a slow and blissful sink

Reinforcement of leather and intricate knots
Our steady, circular breathing as thoughtful as hymns
Droplets drip down words lost in a pool of blots
Sensing your absence as aching phantom limbs

Eyelids crinkle and line in time with old age
Yet, earth and ocean beneath the skin remember
As we write our own verses on the last page
The end will remind me of a frosty December

Following volumes penned with distinctly signature text
Carrying the image of you close to me from this journey to the next

Dash Point

Dash Point

Traveling up Highway 5 0 9
Blanketed under the indigo sky
Morning is arriving as stars shed their shine
The sun starts to ascend, then float, then fly

Existing in shades of grey
Middle-Age hours filmed in black-and-white
Repeating day-after day-after day
Until after the golden hour comes night

Traveling down Highway 5 0 9
Hovering between the ocean and the sand
Hair grown course and features define
Memories follow the wind by each individual strand

Fantastic hues of the beginning circling back to the end
Heaven is waiting for me just around the bend

 

I spent part of my childhood growing up in Washington.  We lived in Federal Way, a city in King’s County between Seattle and Tacoma.  I have very happy memories of my home there.

The last time I visited Washington was for my god-brother’s wedding back in ’96.  We stayed in Washington a few days before the wedding, so we had some time to visit our old neighborhood and Dash Point State Park in Tacoma.

My insomnia started at a very early age, so I’d spend most of the night awake watching Nick at Nite and waiting for my dad to come home from work.  My dad was a payrolled musician at a nearby Korean music club, so he worked almost every day from 8:00pm – 3:00am.  After work, he would drive us to Dash Point to watch sunrise.  I’d fall asleep on the way back home.

I hope by the time I retire, I’ll have enough money saved to move back near Dash Point and spend my final years on earth enjoying those beautiful sunrises again.

Fall

Fall

Is it any surprise
that orange isn’t a prime color
And red signifies passion
but isn’t the color of fire?

Between green and brown
Your skin was yellow and the sky was blue
then you spilled and blended
with the shades of the earth

I remember you as a deep orange
drenched in sunlight
with childhood of towering trees
and leaves with peeking light

When the world was celebrating harvest in autumn
I was watching your leaves descending in fall
There is a reason why they call autumn
Fall