A Love Poem: A New Moon, Like Delicate Eyebrows
A crescent moon,
lightly drawn in the west,
like your eyebrows.
I cannot see your eyes,
that like a dark pool,
unreadable poems.
Crescent moon
longing,
floats out from your hair,
like silk,
a line,
gently brushes across your face,
wondering if it's drifting away,
or dissipating with the wind.
Dissipation
the lights on the opposite rooftops flicker,
not the afterglow of the setting sun,
nor the brilliant dawn.
But I saw your eyes,
sparkling mischievously.
Eyebrows like silk,
The dog is still barking fiercely,
arguing with its own echo,
making a joyful racket.
I wish I could,
draw your eyebrows,
as fine as silk!
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