Pot of gold

I am writing
As my tribute to a rainbow
That appeared one dreamlike morning
When I saw a rainbow from
End to end, standing on the sea
Right by the glass window
In front of my bed
Speechless,
I stared and stopped
As if a lifetime has passed
That white house by the sea
On Lamma island
Is a pot of gold
A child’s memory box
Of white pebbles and sand
Endless weekend walks
By the shores of China
Such as the sampan ride to the other bordering Islands
choppy winds are inviting
a thick play of waves
made for windsurfers and kayakers
while the rocky sea walls
anchor rock climbers
seeking for a weekend adventure
by the end of the day
Songs of the flower people
Echo the night