Birds chirping in the break of dawn,
by Som Thao
the trees are dripping dew.
Their leaves are withered dark and brown,
and fallen but a few.
The weary grass are slowly fading,
the flowers say goodbye.
A sadden dove perch mourning over
with a silent bitter cry.
The kitchen sink goes drip and drip,
the fireplace is cold.
the candle wax has long been melted,
the house is really old.
The stairway creaks when stepped upon.
The hallway's dark and bare,
A beam of light shines to the room
revealing dusty air.
A picture sits beside the bed,
but long lost is the soul.
Tears are dripping from the memory
when nostalgia does its role.
Here I sit wrapped in a cloth,
with nothing left to do-
but wait until that clock stops ticking,
to come and be with you.