Not a shoveling mistake.
It’s time to get out.
I can’t imagine in this tiny birdcage
how stuffy and stifling you were.
Our love couldn’t be confirmed.
I thought I might die too.
It was lucky that you were not deep-rooted.
Let’s enjoy our love in the big world.
Let’s fly in the lofty sky to the fullest.
If this is just a painting I painted,
It would be a never-ending end.
If this is an intentional shoveling,
It would be a new beginning that eventually ends
Even though there will be an end,
I like to feel the butterfly’s antenna,
That is in raptures while licking my nectar.
If not, that’s ok.
No matter this way or that way, it’s my life.
No matter I do this or that, it’s still my life.
This picture that is now frozen, fortunately,
leaves the boring poetry for the world.