The pure and gentle feeling of what I have always desired
Feels so long forgotten.
As I sit underneath the wilted pink magnolia trees I once held so dear,
The soft bite of cold eating at my skin,
A deep hole of weariness sets upon my body.
Snow falls, the long winter marches on,
Sweeping with it the memories of what I once lost.
Beauty, nor virtue matters without the sweet reminiscent you.
I write only to please the soft drift of the pink petals gliding on the gentle wind,
To remember those happy days we once spent in the eve of spring.
In full bloom, even the most graceful and stunning of them cannot sway me.
I have ever been imprinted with the vision of you.
