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Wait for transport.
Standing on the haven
It reminds me of the loved one
Who never said good bye.
So warmth adorned with kindness,
Pity of my age.
Friendly and caring,
They cherished me, with them its gone
Vanished for good,
They go with no more smiles, a joke.
Waiting for transport.
Standing on the haven
Swinging wind, blazing sun,
Dancing ocean currents
all reminds me of you.
How will I tell the beavers, of your beaver away?
Waiting for transport
Tears flow from my eyes
To leave or wipe them
Won’t revive their present.
Left in the midst of Great Ocean
In a small petrol-less boat
In the dark nights of nimbus clouds
Are you gone for sure?
Your wisdom, teaching, console
Still are needed within my soul.
On the haven,
“Wait for me!” was a cry of wind in a swing
So I could hear your appeal “hurry up, we are in a hurry!”
You nourished our youth with work of virtue
I don’t understand why
It is so irresistible to forget
And why you left so early.
Quivers caused the mind to flash.
Incapable to endure and stay longer, so is our span.
The span of scramble and struggle
Arrives, so it is your turn.
Thy destiny knows not
Take caution of thy deeds.
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Branson Shao
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