Delightful march
breathes in on the sound of the swallows
chirp, and in the pungent scent of lemonade.

Daffodils brave the curtain call
and splash in yellow fountains which
powder the grass canary
and rich caramel.

Boughs of cherry trees burst
once more with indulgent,
fatuous blossoms of sugared coral,

Their marbled paper florets billow
in the gusts rising and falling like
the flocks of starlings.

The future is close, wide and happy.

For each string I pick
there is a woman
with her child
sitting on the sidewalk
telling him a story
of a false reality.

For every dollar she spends
there is a gust of wind
carrying something greater
that just leaves
cradling the secrets
swept away from their owners.

For every rock a child tosses
into the fast-moving river
there is someone
or something
separated from another
but we may never learn
that a note is never the same
and money is hardly earned
and rocks don't float

his smiling self,
walked through the hotel door,
and greeted his new, innocent
lover who is clueless about his
greedy intentions.

she smiles at him,
as she looks behind his back,
to find another expensive gold
necklace that will soon be around
her bruised neck.

she is still unaware
of his real character,
and who is the man behind
that facade of sophistication.

*but, just like the others, he is just another greedy man with a pile of money, looking for some fun.