Platform
Midnight blue, Peter River, lightest and mair;
Moon blurs softly, impressions, beyond aware.
Searching for secrets,
from our chance, about meetings, and rebirth.
Days of calm before journey,
among the quiet mouth filled with money.
From the sky, your messages arrive.
Plush to touch, like chasing planes,
To where I can't conceive,
What I can’t derive.
With all my feathers spent,
Just a “Thanks” wanna convey.
What you expected to say,
Only, I bid farewell today.
Cite as: Dai Pan, "Platform," Three Worlds, Still Life, poem 15, 2025. https://daipan.ink/still-life/platform