vietnamese garden

a piece of me is missing
bird with wings absent
reminiscing gentle kisses
but seems so distant
root word missing its fragment

the laughter of kid’s playing
sunsets and sonnets
its the portraying
her fragrance
dress from blue bonnets

step into her orchard
where lays
vietnamese serenades and
soup made of green collard
her stems via everglades

skin were at my  grasp,
thin to thick distance
left me with no air to gasp
her fragrance seize from existence

I insist,
come back to thee
where are you,
the steps to retrace to find you,
my sweet lemon tree from your garden.


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