牛郎織女 (The Cowherd and Weaving Maiden)
December 5, 2012 § Leave a comment
The constellations, they are ever changing
Amongst themselves they’re always rearranging
There’s no new patterns above or under the sun.
Upon the blanket of black sky is one
That twinkles just a little smidgen brighter
(I couldn’t fight for her… I’m not a fighter)
A shooting star, and beauteous to behold –
Imagine as these epic tales unfold:
There painted like a van Gogh on the sky
A scene so marvelous it makes you cry
Yet on the other hand you’re also smiling
(Though on your soul the burdens still are piling)
The seventh of July is when we’ll meet
I’ll kiss thy weaving hands and rub thy feet.
image 1 credit: write_adam via photopin cc
image 2 credit: zidaneex
image 3 credit: wallyg via photopin cc
image 4 credit: photo credit: . SantiMB . via photopin cc
© Joshua Owens, 12/05/2012
Want to give feedback? Post a comment below!