Tanka XXXVII
Her eyes are apt lakes
stirred by whooshing winds’ worn wail,
mysterious as doe
and delicate, like fair’s woe.
Ah! I drown! Drown in her gaze.
’20:09:25:18:55
Note: Of lanky love.
Tanka XXXVII
Life leads to many directions, ancestral trail leads you to the progenitors.
Ancestral Trail 