A Triad of Tanka IX
Fragrant rose petals
Streaked in trickling rivulets
Of shy, tearful zest;
But more poignant your red lips
Moistened by the cooling air.
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Curtains partly drawn
I waited till the frost came;
Still you had not come.
The guiding candle I lit
Left in my lonely window.
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Hunters silver Moon,
Touching down on the hills brow,
Deserts the Heavens.
His callous indifference
Could almost equal your own.
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