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
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