Plum blossom vision,
fragile red amongst cold gray.
Beautiful, wandering girl
pitched smile of humbled radiance/
desire to hold her gingerly in gloved hand
but fear she will drift as flurried snow.
Scattered sunglow beam
searching in damp scented night
for rest of ground/
bed of shade,
seeking earthen refuge.
I can not reach her.
Vulnerable in cool of breeze/
survived ache of spirit,
want to mend,
repair that which I did not cause/
wicked artifice I did not enact/
as revenant controls choice
from deep recess.
Residual questions rumble deep in eve,
hesitancy prevents her from
blooming in my presence,
prefers instead to wait for who
does not return and fails to note
the eloquence of her fragility.
Still I kneel beside bank edge,
waiting to sip sustenance from her brilliance
as amber splendor bathes us
like dancing sparkflies
in twilight fields of wet grasses.
Her yesterday pains transparent
like bands of cloud streaked blue skies,
shadows of yesterday coiling up like bands of smoke,
and I desire to ease those pulses of agony
which trouble her.
Infrequently she fails to caution my intent,
as I murmur in hushed tone,
fomenting Sapphic vagary,
allowing cool breeze to release
petals of her beauty,
descending to open hand/
she allows me to cradle gently,
the plum blossom vision
that she is.