By: Amoureax Amant
Swallows, in docile rows, came back old home,
from south to north garden of plum blossom,
when bugs of dawn haunted morning sweet dream,
and rising sun poured down hot spring sunbeam.
Willows, in rows lined street, stretched out new bud,
seemed like green hair fell down wet ground of mud,
when breeze carried willow blossom to dome,
and swallows cut old branches to build new home.
You wondered if someone came like swallow,
which flew from south to north like an arrow,
through south misty mountains masked with gauze fog,
toward north shore lined with willows by bog.
You came to find answer like a swallow,
to whom you came with smile of pale rainbow.