Poem: 10

Softer I remember the poplar fluff How it comforted me As I refused my own language

Snow in the summer

I walked and walked and walked Attended my lessons In the vast blue domes But barely talked to my beautiful foreigners

Observing my strange sad surrounding Glorious aching littered with light Incense

I'm seeking what is missing I hear the alarm:

I will return Impulsive and brightly We have a lot to learn