Dao Kim Anh Mickey

Author: admin

  • One Day

    Verse 1
    There was a day that | felt like fate
    You texted in time, across | the stars and brave
    Ears met, and coincidence | spoke so loud
    In that moment, we | found each other in the sounds
    We stayed… | because we knew…
    Hearts collide | when minds approve


    Chorus
    One day is all it | takes
    To change a world, to | raise the waves
    Through joy and tears, through | high and low
    We keep on walking, letting love | grow
    Because we choose each | other
    To learn from one an | other
    To under | stand, to hold more than | hands
    To love a | gain


    Verse 2
    There are days just | like today
    Ordinary hours that never | drift away
    We talk, we laugh, we | look, we cry
    Yet every breath feels | like a lullaby
    Even pain can | feel okay
    If you’re beside me | all the way


    Bridge
    Someday, time will | end its run
    But before the setting | of the sun
    We’ll meet for the first time in our dream | place
    With the same warmth, the | same embrace
    Even if now we | part, our souls will | stay
    Because we were | meant to find our | way

    Outro
    So if I’m light, you’re my | spark
    If I’m rhythm, you’re the | mark
    We were not just passing | through
    You were the reason, I always | knew…
    You entered and stayed for our | better life,
    That one | day.

    • July 27, 2025

  • Zero Dollar Therapy

    Cooking is my therapy.
    the scent of garlic and onion slows time down.
    I taste before I serve,
    not for perfection,
    but to make sure it feels like home.
    Every ingredient I choose is like a word in a poem:
    carefully, with love,
    thinking of your smile in every chop and stir.

    Cooking for you is my happiness pill.
    And I don’t plan to hang up my apron,
    not until the last sunrise of our incredible journey together,
    and the last meal is seasoned with forever.

    • October 10, 2025

  • Uninvited

    Let me tell you about my greatest fear
    a tiny sprout rooted in a childhood dream
    that visited me again and again,
    until I grew up.

    Every time, I wake with it, clear as day:
    Mom riding her green 50cc Honda Cub,
    a cardboard box tied behind her,
    me inside it.

    She reaches the bridge,
    drops me and the box in the middle of an empty road,
    then rides on,
    steady, constant, without looking back.

    I stand up.
    I run after her,
    across that endless bridge.
    But the distance never changes.
    No matter how hard I try,
    I can’t catch up.

    I keep running
    until I wake,
    short of breath,
    in tears,
    scared.
    She just leaves me.
    Again.
    And again.

    Not just once.
    Not just a dream.

    We all have old friends
    that show up uninvited,
    longing for reunion.
    But this dream?
    It’s more like a bully,
    one that visits
    when I feel most insecure,
    most alone.

    And I don’t like it.
    Not at all.

    • Initial: May 24, 2025

  • Only

    a teardrop
    from the beloved
    can carve
    a scar,
    etched forever.

    Pause,
    before you speak.
    Think,
    before you act.

    • Initial: May 8, 2025

  • Hope

    Holding expectations in a steady and mindful way,
    Opens the strength to move and shape each day.
    Placing oneself in a bright and hopeful state,
    Even through trials, faith helps us navigate.

    • Initial: April 12, 2025

  • Can I have that hope again?

    Who knew
    That a poem about an old man and his horse,
    Written in May 2021,
    Would open a door,
    A door that led me here,
    To this country, to this moment.

    Then, four years later…

    Who knew
    That as the cycle turns again,
    A new admin takes the reins,
    And the world shifts so fast
    Even the seasons forget their place,
    Summer burns in winter’s wake,
    And winter sometimes shivers under a sun too bold.

    Who knew
    That one day, I’d find myself
    At a grocery store at 8:30 a.m.,
    Chasing after eggs, chasing after time,
    That one day, I’d stand at a crossroads,
    Unsure where tomorrow will lead.

    Then, another four years later…
    Things will be different.
    What will they be like?
    Who knows, right?

    • Initial: March 15, 2025

  • US

    Let’s not talk about our love
    As people always do,
    Like roses forever red,
    Like skies forever blue.

    Let’s speak of our love
    Like these two eyes, once shy
    Now, burning with passion after stolen glances.
    Like these two souls, once lost,
    Now, trusting with just a blink,
    after wandering through doubts,
    through uncertainty, through “maybes.”

    I wish that one day
    We will talk about our love
    Like fingers entwined,
    No longer reaching through screens.
    Like two shadows walking in one path,
    After drifting apart for too long,
    Because our suns rose at different times.

    So, today, I will only speak of our love
    In the past and the present
    Because to predict is to chase the wind,
    (Am I too superstitious?)
    Because the future is the darling of change,
    of paths yet unexplored.
    I will not promise.
    I wish.
    My wish is unrevised.

    • Initial: February 8, 2025

  • Silvery Pride

    They creep, they hide,
    Growing silently,
    In both quantity and length,
    Whispering secrets to the wind,
    Revealing themselves when I run my fingers through my hair,
    Or as I stand, brushing my teeth—
    Still and quiet.

    They carry the weight of aging,
    Family burdens,
    Societal pressures,
    Emotional scars,
    And hidden cracks called mental struggles.

    Once, I tried to mask them—
    Dyeing, highlighting,
    Layer upon layer of disguise.
    But it was only a veil,
    A cover that could never change the truth:
    That fact remains,
    No matter how softened or adorned.

    I am learning to face them.
    To look at them,
    Reckon with them,
    Accept them,
    Understand them,
    Love them.

    I am working on this, yet, I no longer need to dye them.
    I am learning to run my hand over them, tenderly,
    And let them be.

    One day, they will fall.
    I will tuck them away—
    Memories stored in life’s weathered coffer.
    And I will move forward,
    With pride.

    • Initial: January 4, 2025

  • Rest in Shades

    Mr. Jensen - Nate's late Father's Painting.

    In the golden field, lights play,
    Whispering winds sweep the day away.
    The stones of memory, steady and strong,
    Hold the roots of sturdy trees where dreams belong.

    In shades, pause like a quiet rest,
    To gather strength, to heal, to nest.
    Stillness speaks, horizons call,
    Life renews beyond the frame on the wall.

    From the break, accelerate fate,
    Living anew, a future create.
    With charming shadow and golden blaze,
    There is a bright path put in place.

    • Initial: November 29, 2024

  • Traitor of Secrets

    Time reveals secrets, slowly, softly,
    About my father

    When I was young,
    I believed:
    Dad did not dislike any food
    He ate whatever was left
    Handled the scraps in the fridge without a word
    Because my mother would not touch the skin or fat
    Because I refused dry rice
    Because my sister avoided green onions.

    But as I grew older,
    I realized:
    Dad was eating leftovers
    Setting aside his own tastes
    So that his wife and children could savor the best
    Years passed, and along with them,
    High cholesterol, high blood pressure,
    From the weight of all those small, unspoken sacrifices.

    Only recently,
    I discovered:
    He does not like dishes seasoned with five-spice
    That is all I knew.

    Now,
    I wonder:
    How many more secrets lie
    Hidden in the quiet corners of his life
    That time has yet to reveal?

    • Initial: October 19, 2024