By: Amoureax Amant
Plum blossom, would I bear chilled frost like you,
to peek drifting snow laid at branches at dew,
once in a while I almost thought spring came,
when sun aloft hung sky, warm as burnt flame.
But morning breeze hit face with chilled north air,
to blow snowflake whitened couple's black hair,
as though it's been for decades together,
when reflections wrinkled in green water.
I almost wished we were two plum blossoms,
blossomed in drifting snow covered house domes,
with light fragrance fluttered into snowfall,
as though it's not snowflake but plum petal.
But how many people could bear chilled air,
and how many couples could comb pale hair.