a dried flower with subtle beauty
entrance to his doors of memory
one leads to her smile
one to her wit
one to her intelligence
perfect pieces he's chewing on
My Blog where some of my journals, poetry, thoughts are exhited.
he wears a rose on his chest
a dried flower with subtle beauty entrance to his doors of memory one leads to her smile one to her wit one to her intelligence perfect pieces he's chewing on I welcome constructive but not rude comments.
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AuthorI started late to become a writer, after I graduated from the University of Auckland at the age of 57. It all began when one of my articles was first published in Muse, a magazine in Hong Kong. I just finished my first novel Tree which is about Chinese immigrants here in New Zealand. Being bipolar it hasn't been easy but I'm proud to have broken the vicious cycle and begin to enjoy life. I'm glad to have survived to this age and be able to live a most fulfilling life. Categories |