Sonnet 015
Laijon Liu 20160229
What is perfection in every living creature?
Is his, her pinnacle state or whole acts?
Highlights of blood, of thrill, of moan, of sweet melody
Soliloquies of main characters in their given time
Men take root, burst sprout, and gradually weathered
How beautiful their rough palms and wrinkled faces
How solemn their simple prayers and genuine speech
These are the spectacles of Nature’s work
Ah, I must treasure you, and all your seasons
Even those boring hours of housework are precious
Time may not be our enemy after all
Having is great, and lost we value more
No one can defeat Time, I think
But Love makes it void, I guess
