Aurora Kim Poet Narrative

Box of Abandonment

Down, down the known street where
 the quite evening lying down, my legs took me a walk
 Sending the sun to west, something that street holding
for me. 

Little, little lonely voices' hands knocking my ears 
 from where 
 tied my steps with rope pulling toward them.
 Under a tree, a mere brown box. 
 Under the mortal sin, placed the box of abandonment who.

Stygian, stygian dirt on their white furs as
 longing woken on their red eyes for their mother. 
 The hunt of hungriness befell their tums how long
 Whipped in thirstiness, the begging voices of two little kittens
 someone to be their saviour.
 I found inside the box of abandonment.

Wanderer, the wanderer hiding eight hundred rivers
 in its rucksack.  
 On that day, the wanderer unseen stopping by that street.
 Do has a lot empathy in the thunderous wanderer' rucksack,
 don't want to give the kittens cold trembling.
 
 Tight, tightly their voices must have grabbed 
 knobs of unclosed ears passing by that street.
 When I was about to carry the box of abandonment 
 to home, they came. Two unfamiliar girls.

 The box of abandonment on their hand,
 they put. 
 To be unfold in their paths,
 blessings waiting for them. 
 Bigger their sympathy's footmark upon their foot
What that street holding, I saw.

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