Inklings 2023

It was raining yesterday, The wind was uttering overtly. To be jealous of the rain and the wind, My form is physical, yet all I can do is mutter secretively: Unlike the fragrant flowers who exhibit their beauty, Unlike the brilliant stars who let themselves be gazed by men, Unlike the proud animals who show their fangs; Like the acting boy who hides the hints of red, Like the foolish boy who pursues a sliver of chance, Like the boyish dreamer who in the end, can only dream. Am I the fair youth, who’s neither fair nor desired? Is she the dark lady, but neither dark nor bawdy? Do I ought to lay my head on the desk, Watching her, yet a million things on my mind to say, A million dreams, a million words, and a million possibilities. All to rot in the depths of my soul like the Asian pear on my kitchen counter, Outer golden, inner black; I waited past the glory days where that’s all there’s left. It was raining yesterday, Just close my eyes and spill my heart, And let the wind carry the message to her. MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS Marco Zhao ’23 8