My Father's Hair Poem by Antonio Liao

shiny short hair breaks what makes me today, and
just a blink of breeze brings every mode easy to stay
with me for anything that color the sky, certainly the glows
will always calls the Sun to close where the clouds tenderly
air, until Sun close down to shine and the clouds of the twinkling
little eyes of the star cover me to cry

it was a good night when I have a beautiful dream, where by
my father And I played with me in the sky; this refreshing time
is the bonding moment where every time we meet in my dream,
we used to climb the tree, where the branches almost
touches the ground and the height is high as the sky. the
humid air refresh our strengths and the dew clam our smile, it
was a moment of solitary with the one I give and share my profane
trust and commitment the coolness that lingers in our midst
conquers the momentum of resting mood.

My life abode the luxury of belongingness, whereby touching
the lives of other is Leaving my past behind and conquering others
suffering is a joy in my heart for last. The end within is the prize of
tranquility and a rendezvous of every mess of the days past made.
And forevermore lives in my dream of goodbye that welcomes
the new dawn of today.

It's been a call to ride for free on the twig of the tree, gently give the melody
To mesmerize the glow of the every leaves to fall and kiss the ground
The looks invite every wind to flow and follow every stream to lie down
Into the river beds return, the move waited to calm down for every action,
Just always remember to Reflect the motionless wind that gallop in the
our midst, nothing than a silent of the birds squeeze the serenity
of the place I stand. The only whisper recall for thee comes from the rendering
invitation of the nightingale wings.

Though my heart bubble and my lips squander like flower sported its
feather to fly, the whole meadows sing for joy, and the bird lauded its bacon to eat,
everything Comes with entity to live and everybody hold the spirit to exist,
the plain is so fertile and the rain gradually recall the falling rain of abundant
looks.

Dozen of seeds wait to be planted yet the hands is empty; of where the droplets
of Laughter and joy enjoy, there the hope live. Even the sight had surrender
to find and the tongue Figure to make, that's all is clear thou the voice is empty,
then how could the hair be whiten if the head is naked, and come witness the droplets
moist of dew and breathe the sweet romance of the birds in the sky, for
watching the feather's fall is just loosening the belt of a joy forever, and never
every knee shall vow its feet for whatever being love quest every heart to save.

Touching painted Father's hair, dash every path to live …