Poetry, Daily, Record

I am writing a poem.

When I write poetry, the corners keep popping out. I just remembered a good memory, but when the afterimage of something that was next to or behind it clearly appeared, I looked forward to poetry.

The landscape of Paris that we often miss becomes a face that is unfamiliar in front of poetry, and I do not want to let it be revealed as it is, so it is difficult, but I try to keep writing it. Fortunately, it’s fun.