.
*The tender Willow leaves whoosh softly
with the fickle cherry blossom breeze
Painting the colour
these inevitable days ,
the fragrant scent
of springtide
No longer holding back
the dreams from deep in a heart
waxing gibbous ,
the unopined moon
rose up over an unwritten poem
painting hues with words
shaping the shadows of its song
into a musically dappled tableau
stroked by the tickle of poignant whispers
waft from the veritable roguish winter nadir
― a latent and longing heart
― beneath
a sky full of stars*
✩ ✩ ☼ ✩ ✩
wild is the wind