Three Other Poems

Image by Stephane Tampigny from Pixabay

Daughter of red wine
Daughter’s first cry, father’s heart overwhelmed
Rice, grain by grain, panned and soaked
Father uses hands rubbing warmth from glutinous rice
Then buried deep, under Osmanthus fragrant tree
Love, love deeply felt, fermented within airtight jar
Two feet below fragrance of circle of trees
Tamp daughter inch long height.
Love in father’s eyes seeing daughter grow
The love measured by beat of his heart.
Daughter marries, altar girl dressed in red by father
Fragrance sweet-smelling daughter
Pleasing the father’s heart.
Married couple pick up glasses
Offer toast of love to tearful father
Grey-headed man drinks to his daughter’s happiness.

Hug me in my dream
In my memory, 
Your lips mother never touched my dimpled face
You told me 
Love does not show that way 
I felt loneliness without your embracing love.
On Mother’s Day
I loved you only for your red roses
But you whispered to me 
Between you and me only remembered flowers
Bloomed and faded 
Do not leave red rose memories
Missing them bleeds the heart.
I bought a red rose in every year for Mother’s Day  
When that special festival came, those dark red flowers bloomed
You never knew
Bloomed, faded as my willpower and persistence 
I had been delayed in the U.S.A.
Stared at my mother through video 
She looked at me, so serene 
As if what occurred never happened between us 
I reminded her she must stay for me, she promised
I would reach her bedside 
Then she went to paradise 
And failed to keep her promise
Even though I could fly I arrived too late
When we were getting together at that last moment.
How many times in my dreams 
Mother looked at me silently 
Did not say a word
Grieving my heart, sorrowing the mind 
Tears at every Mother’s Day.
Hug me, Mother 
I miss you so much 
Tears stain this poem 
Please hug me, even if only in my dreams
Two shadows hugs, happiness and joy
Please hug me in my dream again 
On Mother’s Day

Seeing the mist again
I did not hear my childhood nickname
When smoke rose from kitchen chimney
Beside lake in foreign land
Willow trees embankment, sun setting
Birds song heard as curling smoke was rising
Smoke floating, drifting, as if from depths of my heart
Going near and far, then lost without trace.
My steps cannot catch dispersing smoke
Only my eyes can follow
It is like dawn waiting for birds to wake.
Secretly I call my nickname
But cannot go back to my childhood

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