过马路的小松鼠

一只过马路的小松鼠,
被车压死了,
倒在路中间的双黄线上.
第一天,
我不敢看他.
第二天,
我看到有一只鸟在吃他.
第三天,
我以他为路标记住了大姨家的路.
今天,
我看到路中间只剩下一团毛.
过马路的小松鼠,
你原本要去那里?
见你的女朋友吗?
可怜的你,
兴奋过头而忘了左右看.
可怜的她,
是否还在苦苦等待?


P.S.: 刚学会开车的时候写的诗，翻箱倒柜找出来，存在这里，希望不会丢了。最近才给这首诗画了画。因诗是很久前写的，画完之后才发现没有画双黄线。:P

"Quiet!" I Say.

What if I never had the ability to hear?
What would it be like?

Never heard
the sound of my name,
the beat of music,
the laugh of joy,
the sob of sorrow,

Then,
would the pain also be muted?

I signed a sigh.

The ♥ between Salt & Pepper

I'd like to make a video

about the love between

salt & pepper.

It should start like this:

To you,

maybe she looks the same like all the others,

but she is special to me.

...

I haven't come up with the rest yet.

I need to start filming,

and maybe the idea will come to me,

like it alwasy does.

What troubles me most is:

I don't know should "she" be the salt or pepper?


Update: I finally finished the video. :) To watch, click here

1992--2011

Thanksgiving night,

alone on the dorm floor, I called my Dad.

There is something I should have clarified, long time ago.

"When did you and mom get divorced?"

He was surprised and puzzled, not sure why I brought this up.

Neither do I.

"...I forgot. Let me ask my wife."

I laughed out loud, this was too funny.

"1992, around July or August."

1992...

I was 10, already!

I had always thought I was only eight.

July or August...

So it was in the summer, my favorite season. Why don't I remember the heat?

The memory is quite blur, only clear on one or two things:

the night my brother and I kneeled down to plead Dad,

the day I sat on Dad's lap before he and my brother took off.

Time has flied by,

so much has changed.

I have been wrong all these years.

I was 10,

already.

pure

"Here," she handed me a leaf, "it has never touched the ground."

Staring at the piece of leaf, the realization of the fact started to hit me, strongly.

It has NEVER touched the ground.

What does it really mean? I almost cannot comprehend it. Since I have been touching the ground every day. I am not able to avoid the ground. Sometimes, I feel I am rooted in the ground, or I am deep down under the ground.

This tiny piece of leaf, mixed green with yellow, broken but pure, for it has never touched the ground.

Holding the leaf carefully, a sense of responsibility raise in my heart. I know that I will try all I can to keep it from falling.

new hobby

I fell in love with lines.

Picked up a pen,

from this point to the other,

I started to draw.

Press, turn, connect.

I felt complete.

Sometimes, a photo demands a poem

same place,

same chairs,

where we sat, talking for hours.

same sunlight,

used to rest on your hair,

now,

casts shadow of the chair.

we grew up,

we left.

If I stayed, would you be back?