Nimitha’s Reviews > The Secret of Hoa Sen > Status Update
Nimitha
is on page 74 of 148
It has taken me half my life,
to understand that my father’s gaze, his smile and his silence
are my most precious inheritance.
I can now read his thoughts
alive behind his simple faded shirt,
love overflowing, choking his heart,
the love he dedicates to me,
that sweetens the rivers in the scorching season.
I stand before the field that my father sowed,
listening to green lives rise under the earth.
— Dec 29, 2020 04:44AM
to understand that my father’s gaze, his smile and his silence
are my most precious inheritance.
I can now read his thoughts
alive behind his simple faded shirt,
love overflowing, choking his heart,
the love he dedicates to me,
that sweetens the rivers in the scorching season.
I stand before the field that my father sowed,
listening to green lives rise under the earth.
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Nimitha’s Previous Updates
Nimitha
is on page 124 of 148
We make our way through a narrow lane,
try and fit our bodies perfectly into each other in the darkness,
try and fit our lips perfectly into each other to carry us through
the winter.
My scarf wraps around the wind; I wrap around you.
Inside of night the sun flows; inside of day, the moon.
You flow inside of me,
and swallow all my thoughts whole.
You put the moon into my palm.
I open my eyes after the kiss
— Dec 29, 2020 07:49AM
try and fit our bodies perfectly into each other in the darkness,
try and fit our lips perfectly into each other to carry us through
the winter.
My scarf wraps around the wind; I wrap around you.
Inside of night the sun flows; inside of day, the moon.
You flow inside of me,
and swallow all my thoughts whole.
You put the moon into my palm.
I open my eyes after the kiss
Nimitha
is on page 24 of 148
The aroma of Hưng Yên just coming into being,
the lotus of West Lake
just coming into blood, Vòng village
restless to produce
the green young sticky rice.
They carry to me the fresh breeze from their village
where their mothers, children, and husbands stand waiting,
where dreams are thirsty, and struggle.
— Dec 29, 2020 01:13AM
the lotus of West Lake
just coming into blood, Vòng village
restless to produce
the green young sticky rice.
They carry to me the fresh breeze from their village
where their mothers, children, and husbands stand waiting,
where dreams are thirsty, and struggle.
