April 10: Poet (#NaPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 #GloPoWriMo #Poetry)



You speak of poetry,

how a brisk wind sends

shattered petals adrift,

as I search for a seat.

But you belong

only to a dream,

or sailing in One Piece,

your arms black,

destined to be a pirate.

Perhaps your name is

William, with dark locks,

red cheeks and white brows.

No matter: The Chinese

are leaving, dreaming of

twenty-dollar hot pots,

while the English sit

willing to pay five bucks

for pleasant conversations.


(Image: Muses, Wikipedia)


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