A Postcard To Luang Prabang, 2555
Ghost of kings and gilded glory
Flower of a sad and fading time,
You’re steps and caves and holy,
Hewn from a gentle nak spine.
Put on your best jewels and perfumed airs,
Indulge in such luxuries fine,
My pining beauty, who says you can’t compare
To all of your old neighbors nearby?
You'll always be mine,
A lash of fire, a gorgeous eye among mountains
Who shoulder their true names
in wounded silence