This red flower hits my eyes,
in this afternoon, it fusses me,
like a cool stone in the setting sun,
as if dust forms a ring around it so
long.
How do I feel now?
It is my memory what I missed
fifty five years ago at my teens.
Am I fine, well now?
Still I am restless, to find
a loving, beautiful face of my choice,
in the same air that was half a century
ago.
And I feel storm followed by
Wilderness in an arc of cradle.
