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.
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