Sweetest Night
Sweet moonlight, sweet chill of night,
sweet clouds of night -
handmade, tissue paper
roses adorn gravestone rows
on this baritone night,
more fragrant and full
more frail than bitter air.
Why does winter winds stir our despair,
wilting sweetest flowers here?
Perhaps, silver-laced flakes of snow
fall light upon lover's lips to remind
souls of their resilience.
What is more sweet than this?
One, tender tear reflects the light
upon dark creases of your cheek.
Our eyes slow to rest on icy pond
from the banks of sweet reminiscence.
Its current shifts beneath to remind of spring.
Unsheathed trees conceive poetic sounds.
Their muse dances to melodies sweeter
than love.
Moonlight mingles merrily
with dried leaves on the breeze.
And the rotted ground ignores
this whimsical whirling above.
I can taste the bittersweet breath of earth's decay
then close my eyes in dreams of sweet rebirth.
This is the winter of our age.
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