poem

                                                Blossom in the past

      Lifting the dark

      Misty veil, of the night

      From the pillow of its mountain peak.

      The sun, rose, and saw.

     The valley is filled with the season

                     And the brances of memories have sprouted.

                     Innumerable

                     Blossom of the past moments.

                     Unspoken, unheard yearnings,

                     Half asleep, half awake...

    Grabbed my eyes

    As it flows in wave after wave

    At once look

    yes, its whisper to the top my lung

    A sense

                  Meeting and parting...

                  The time is flowing like a river

                  whispering as it flows

                  sprouted
                  innumerable blossom in the past.