I Am Just a Prop

He was a real genius, she said.
Do we need a genius, for that kind of thing?
Alas! Because of all the fuss she made,
I couldn’t say that I was a genius too.
How fortunate I am!
I could just be a wine bottle for that genius,
it would be better if I could be a chair the beauty sit on
and it couldn’t be better if I were a bed
the genius and the beauty make love on
Don’t praise for my modesty.
How come he can be a genius without drinking wine?
How could beauty’s butt touch the floor?
A good bed is a must for a passionate sex.
This kind of cute ambition should be allowed, shouldn’t it?
I am just a prop
that takes whatever happen to me
and keep my place
While just watching admired genius and beloved beauty.
A prop that won’t reveal its ambition,
just like a forest that wraps the village,
just like a mountain that sustains the forest.
If ‘prop’ sounds too small,
How about calling it a stage background?
Nah, calling it just the stage?
How could a genius and a beauty exist
without a stage where they play on?
Just like the Earth on which humankind is living,
just like the Space in which the Earth is breathing,
the prop that has accomplished its long-cherished goal.

My October Bride

On a splendid day in October,
Be my bride.
Treading on the fallen leaves
With your bare feet,
Wearing short wedding dress,
Boasting of your beautiful legs
On which moist drizzle is flowing down,
Come to me.
To spend the unforgettable
Last night of October,
Make today a wonderful day.
Before this October passes away,
Be my bride.
To greet ash-colored November
With blue-sky-colored heart,
Be my October bride.

***
Wondering who this woman would be…

I Shall Be a Flower 13: If only I could just watch

The lyric of a pop song is now my song.
I am trying to sink my root deeper in order to be a flower.
How can I dance trying to get closer to her?
If only I could just watch her.
If only she won’t vanish in the morning fog.
She would give up becoming a butterfly
so as to remain a flower for me.
Then we are a couple of flowers
gazing at each other, hiding our desires.
It might be a beautiful picture.
But rather would we be happy
if we are plucked together and
being withered in the tap water of the vase?
Would we be happy
if only we could just watch each other
and feel good as we are?