In Her Mind's Eye

Trong Mắt Nàng

Month: April, 2015

White lily days

“…I’m on the rooftop terrace of the Hanoi Social Club, at the same big wooden table where we grabbed a cold drink or four with my friend John one light evening last summer after the music performance (wasn’t it jazz?), playing a new song on my old ukulele. The birds made a small nest on the wall of the building across the alley. It’s sunset time and they’re returning home. All the maroon French windows of the house below are shut except for one half-open, half-closed. In the narrow alley, people are washing bikes and collecting garbage in red, blue, and yellow plastic bags. Not the most environmentally friendly things, those bags, but the colors can be fun to look at. I can hear children playing football at the end of the alley, but can’t see them from here. I can hear the sound of the plastic ball bouncing off of small feet, I can hear laughters.

A lady selling white lilies of April is passing by on her weathered bicycle. When white lilies are on the street, Hanoians know April has come.”

Advertisements

He Comes With April

Little bee
Over the tree
Buzzes its heart
Wishing to be free
(Fierily)

Slender vines
Twinkling eyes
Cross their hearts
And hope not to die
(By and by)

The one with wings
Wearing green leaves that sing
Touches her heart
Kissed by the morning
(Tink-a-ling-aling)

Splendor in the Air (1) & (2)

(1) Monday afternoon, Saigon

Riding the Warrior Princess along the windy canal, basking in the sweet, warm Saigon afternoon sun, toes skipping to Pink Martini, kissed by a cat. Light runs in your veins and all that is flowing through your tender heart is warmth and sweetness. Sing for me, birdie in the coconut corner. Send your song to the dancing sun.

(2) Thursday afternoon, Phnom Penh

Let’s remake our history, Phnom Penh. Let’s swim in your golden sun and drunken laughter and weightless breezes. I quite like you, I do do do. For me you fill yourself with honey light and frangipani’s fragrance and sneaky quicky kisses and I fail to hide you in the folds of my thin, short hair.

%d bloggers like this: