Friday, 29 January 2010
All the spring buds have bloomed,
And fallen to the ground, sighing,
In the fury of summers passion.
A blizzard of exulting blossoms,
Recalling as they are falling,
Precious moments of perfection.
As when first the wandering Sun,
Stretched forth his golden fingers,
And stroked open their pale petals.
Soft the loving kiss that he laid,
Upon the naked limbs of cherry trees,
Gently waking from winters sleep.
Now Autumn in all her wise womanhood,
Fears the widowing sky of September,
And weeps in silence as the Summer ends.