An old moment
taken from the lake.
Your cry echoes
through the dark hills.
Some say there is no death.
Just cloudless skies,
and spring beneath
the cherry blossoms.
Holding back the night
An old moment
taken from the lake.
Your cry echoes
through the dark hills.
Some say there is no death.
Just cloudless skies,
and spring beneath
the cherry blossoms.
A Wandering Poet 