The songs of leaves sung with the wind must end
when withered leaves part and never return...

Your songs, its melodies lining like silk
the darkness between rays upon rays of starlight...

You smiled and told me you've found the joys of...
As you walked on - gracefully...

Your smile opens like a harpist’s hands -
dancing through whispers among strands...

A seed that seeped into the heart, it creeped:
with its silent crawl, with its branches small...

Upon time, but only once, she dreamt
A dream that made her weep...

We saw the long, broad strokes of sunlight
woven into melodies...

Streams after streams of silk, you knitted -
Like a solemn harpist...

The lonely dance of feathers scattering
through winter’s breeze – shivering, withering...

Have you ever hoped
The dead could come back to life...

To be cruel to the one who gave me faith
that the world (patched and stained in reddened...

Dead, motionless – there she was:
the wingless dove...