MEMORIES OF GEMS OF HA LONG BAY.
The soaring grey eagles fly,
A mirror in an endless sky
Of swimmers in the sea below,
Floating deeper than they know,
Perhaps a million miles high
Above earth or below sky,
The ship afloat upon the bay,
Close- yet drifting far away,
Those turquoise islands must fade
Against a vast sea of jade.
EXILE.
Exile is where you are not,
And where you cannot be,
It is what cannot be forgot,
Those you and I cannot see,
Still we share the same moon and sky,
Touch the same ocean flowing by.
