on the day of ghosts
blossom fled the cherry trees
a girl - a man in a stovepipe hat -
amid the glinting dampness
of sap stuck leaves
there but yon and gone
for the disbelieving to deny
they come not to chase
- these whirling glimpses -
for on the day of ghosts
we hold our hope in friendship
The Blue Book
No comments:
Post a Comment