Poetry l The Rain-drops Have Ceased
So the rain-drops have ceased...
A matter of time as I knew it.
A few of them still cling to the glasses
Of my bedroom's window, that is
How they always do, to warm themselves,
To make believe they're shining brighter than ever
Than the street light (to whom they owe the debt).
I try to open my eyes a bit longer
I beg them to be my guest, to make a brief stay
'Cause my beloved stars are no where to be found.
But one by one, they either disappear or slip away
As if I am bound to be a lonely one.
At last I say to them, "farewell, my new friends,
By tomorrow you'll be back to where you came."
it's an old work I composed about 2 years ago, when there're thunder storm all the time in summer afternoon, or a typhoon could linger for a day that makes it look like doomsday.
A matter of time as I knew it.
A few of them still cling to the glasses
Of my bedroom's window, that is
How they always do, to warm themselves,
To make believe they're shining brighter than ever
Than the street light (to whom they owe the debt).
I try to open my eyes a bit longer
I beg them to be my guest, to make a brief stay
'Cause my beloved stars are no where to be found.
But one by one, they either disappear or slip away
As if I am bound to be a lonely one.
At last I say to them, "farewell, my new friends,
By tomorrow you'll be back to where you came."
it's an old work I composed about 2 years ago, when there're thunder storm all the time in summer afternoon, or a typhoon could linger for a day that makes it look like doomsday.
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