The Last Full Blossom
When the last full blossom
Has fallen from the cherry tree--
When nostalgia is all that's left--
When the light of the day grows dim,
And you hear a drumming from the east--
What then, my children?
When the pearly string of days is broken,
And the gems fall softly to the ground,
Will you then go north to find solitude?
Copyright © Bill Yates | Year Posted 2020
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