By: Amoureax Amant
Not to laugh soldiers creeped on front line,
like fainting bees got drunk by dewy wine,
perhaps some men would never come back home,
perhaps wine weaved sweet dream in full blossom.
Not to look back old days filled with joyance,
which was bubble of dream contained fragrance,
yet summer stars still shined with neon light,
or autumn moon lit night, bright as daylight.
You were not nun, who prayed for soldiers,
nor soldier, whose blood red-stained flowers,
nor general, whose sword drew out to fight,
but dandelion futtered into daylight.
Each dandelion floated like dove's feather,
to settle on meadow in full flower.