This Golden Day

One morning, rising up—

Liberated from countless,

shackling webs of self-condemnation.
Hugged by warmth,
a fragrant sanctuary.

Sunny-side eggs melting
on salmon salad,
whilst Takanaka himself
Tokyo Reggies with this body.

The hopes of the rising sun
filling me inside—
savoring whimsical yet warm recalls,
holding back my grin, slurping.

Walking, shining golden.
EarPods weightless,
the highs I hear
make me notice
the pure joy of passing faces—
once empty, now alive.

Smiling at the new and always,
orange marmalade displayed like art,
while kind Mancunians
stand nearly everywhere,
rescuing softly—
brave, pure-hearted,
like shooting stars you glimpse
but rarely notice.

Sweating like steam, grinning wide,
playing Sunday specials
with the Chengs, until my arm numbs—
Blindsided, meteor-like smash from his aunt,
Whilst final Tai Chi touch
from the family head.

A surreal ’90s snapshot of Chinatown—
gorgeous, hustling
as it’s always been.

Bobas and dumplings,
crafted like memory tapes
by the Creator,
with his wives—
the good ones, Of course.

And I hope it stays this golden
every day.

– Nodame