April Showers
April sent forth a shower of riverside catkins,
In the rainy Southern town I
set sail among blooming seas of lotus deities.
Fell through the bamboo ceiling,
Calling out your archaic name,
On the cobblestones it echoed, I watched
Fallen dynasties, rising for that tragic destiny
Into pearls of closed, red-tapered doors
loneliness seeping into the walls of your inner city.
And yet you played for me under the petals and cherry,
I listened until the wind swept plums down from the tree.
We came and went, skipped the dull middle
When brown encroached
And gold was but fleeting.
And yet it is the season of dead leaves,
The mirror says otherwise
Reflecting you, fine and featureless
Everlasting spring.
Copyright © Amy Zhao | Year Posted 2019
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