Nine Shorts - Hana, Dul, Set

Crabs Small feet pounding the pebbled path, Desperate to escape From imminent danger. Eight legs and two claws Advance in their thousands Upon their prey; the child. Refuge is sought in an adult's arms, High up and away from The frightful crustacean march. Roman Crimson red and blinding gold Balanced upon ber small head. Blonde hair cascades from beneath In trestles of tight curls. She leads her troops around ancient streets, With a smile as bright as the rays Of the almighty Sol's coronet. Her lips uttered words of old That soon resigned to memory. Hong Kong The humidity of warm daytime Gives way to icy harbor air of nighttime. Man-made neon dances on the water's surface While natural moonlight seems to target her, Illuminates her. Tsim Sha Tsui's streets are hectic, But its back alleys provide shelter, And shaved ice with its sweet, milky taste, Melts on her tired tongue.