My Dear Guest
Golden crows were crying loud
When my dear guest called me out,
Crossing mounds to reach my house.
Smiled, but it seemed to pretend,
Bringing nothing in the hands,
And left something in return.
Couldn’t notice or prevent
Something you left in my heart.
Is that so called attachment?
Rush out to gate when dogs bark,
Wishing my guest in the dark.
Found none but my broken heart.–
By Wai Yan Phone
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