On chilly nights such as these
spent alone beneath the Buddha’s tree
near the lake where, long ago,
we first embraced in dance,
I begin to hate enlightenment,
and simply want your lips near mine again.
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
On chilly nights such as these
spent alone beneath the Buddha’s tree
near the lake where, long ago,
we first embraced in dance,
I begin to hate enlightenment,
and simply want your lips near mine again.
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
