#sakura - Hello Poetry

We were walking, the painter and I, Across the plain and towards the hill. The moon had waxed into her glory Causing the zephyrs to sigh. We rested awhile at the foot of the rise Nestled in a comfortable silence. The night moved on languid feet Passion hidden under a serene guise. We took the path on the dark leeward My golden quill our only light. The painter promised a spectacle And anticipation fueled my climb Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind, As we stood on silver bathed ground. A man stood at the edge of the hill, His hands on the railing, waiting. Under the tree he stood. The flowers hiding the wrinkles Of his suit and his skin. His gaze fixed upon the moon. My friend and I sat against a boulder And waited with him. The wind whispered with the flowers And the Sakura tree sang to the night. The song was impossible, Yet hear it we did. Violins and keys, flutes and harps - A haunting tune of longing. And as the song rose, A woman stood beside the man; A bride clad in a moonlight gown, Her veil of starshine trailing behind. The man took her hand, And the woman drew closer. And groom and bride, They danced among the flowers. Wrinkles were smoothened Trembling hands strengthened Faltering feet trode sure And wilting heart bloomed anew. Happiness perfused the air. Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be - So the man knew, and chose to forget. He held on to the past and danced. We sat there, intruders and fools, Too ashamed to look on, Too enthralled to look away, Until sleep hid them from our eyes. The melody rains with the petals, Tears dance with the smiles. The waltz of the weary hearts Lasts as long as the moon.

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Jun 17, 2025

Jun 17, 2025 at 8:38 AM UTC

pauvel-jetha

Travels Of A Dreamer 7 : Dance

We were walking, the painter and I, Across the plain and towards the hill. The moon had waxed into her glory Causing the zephyrs to sigh. We rested awhile at the foot of the rise Nestled in a comfortable silence. The night moved on languid feet Passion hidden under a serene guise. We took the path on the dark leeward My golden quill our only light. The painter promised a spectacle And anticipation fueled my climb Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind, As we stood on silver bathed ground. A man stood at the edge of the hill, His hands on the railing, waiting. Under the tree he stood. The flowers hiding the wrinkles Of his suit and his skin. His gaze fixed upon the moon. My friend and I sat against a boulder And waited with him. The wind whispered with the flowers And the Sakura tree sang to the night. The song was impossible, Yet hear it we did. Violins and keys, flutes and harps - A haunting tune of longing. And as the song rose, A woman stood beside the man; A bride clad in a moonlight gown, Her veil of starshine trailing behind. The man took her hand, And the woman drew closer. And groom and bride, They danced among the flowers. Wrinkles were smoothened Trembling hands strengthened Faltering feet trode sure And wilting heart bloomed anew. Happiness perfused the air. Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be - So the man knew, and chose to forget. He held on to the past and danced. We sat there, intruders and fools, Too ashamed to look on, Too enthralled to look away, Until sleep hid them from our eyes. The melody rains with the petals, Tears dance with the smiles. The waltz of the weary hearts Lasts as long as the moon.