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Yellow Crane Tower
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March 2002 Poetry An old friend,
distant from the west.
Sits in the yellow crane tower.
Shaking the branches,
making leaves rustle to the ground.
~
An old friend,
from third months past,
goes down Yang Jou,
an does the mist,
that shrouds blossomed flowers.
~
An old friend,
sails off into the distance.
So lonely.
A blue shadow of emptiness,
covers both of us,
as we disappear,
from each other.
~
An old friend,
is all I see.
Pulling down the long,
flowing river,
along Heaven’s edge.
~*~ Jill ~*~
