The breeze blows, blueish river
Flows proudly and fluently, like old days,
The old trace\'s all erased, the bridge
Stretches the hills on both ways.
In the park, the righteous names of fallen troops
Are etched in the memorial stone,
In the shade of the trees, not saying a bird
Is pecking and resting alone.
(24th, Oct.,2023, Kinsley Lee)