THE FLOWER THAT FUSSES ME

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.