Towers
Along the silence that settles deep in the stone.
I circled, ascended.
The shadow of the moon crept into the mound.
The bright river is rushing through the window openings where you can look out.
I kept circling, rising.
The rusty brass bell takes away the sound of falling time.
I grew smaller, more and more empty.
Like a needle piercing the sky.
Finally disappeared from the heights.
River
A river of silence.
Always silent.
Flowing through everyone's faces.
Childhood, adolescence, youth ......
passed me silently.
Only a little bit of the past remains.
Such as stones that have settled at the bottom of the water.
And the ship is gone.
There is only some inexplicable melancholy.
Secretly returning home in the sleepless night.
Passion is gone, and the land is barren.
The river is drying up.
On the forehead, the ravine-crisscrossed riverbed is exposed.
Silently recounting the turbulent years.
One last poem for you
Someday you'll suddenly think of me.
When it rains and you can't sleep.
You'll be reminded of our first encounter.
Or, the final parting.
Put these few freshly picked wild chrysanthemums.
Clip into the psalms I have written to you.
Someday, you will be under a lonely lamp.
Quietly flip through the hearts I once loved you so much.
At that time, the night must have been deep, deep.
The past is damp. Thin and long rain threads.
Weaving the poignancy of the years outside the window.
And under the fingers of your flippage.
A few will wilt.
But the dried flowers still exude a faint fragrance.
Like a sigh. Correct. Floating.
Fall. 
Author:Li Ping, a post-70s amateur writer and working poet, has been insisting on writing in the cracks of making a living, was recommended to join the Hubei Writers Association in 2021, and was elected as the vice chairman of the Xian'an District Writers Association of Xianning City, Hubei Province in 2022. has always been busy with work and survival, reading books in his spare time, insisting on writing, although humble, but never sighing, alone in the text along the path of poetry to the otherworldly spiritual palace.
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.