My Mediocrity
Since I cannot write about cherry blossoms
Like the Japanese
I write about silence of pine trees
On wind's lips
Since I don't have a marble bust in my garden
Like the Romans
I write about the sensuous ripples spilling out of your neckline
In language of mud
Since I don't have wizardry of words
Like Shakespeare
I write about your colorful madness
On a floating autumn leaf
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