By: Amoureax Amant
If I condensed maple lit like burnt flame,
whose leaf swirled with wind like butterfly came,
I would grow maple leaves with hues of rose,
and waite in valley veiled in pale fog gauze.
If I condensed grimrose whispered bee's name,
whose smell mixed with leaf's scent could smell as same,
I would disperse fragrance came through bee's nose,
and waite for bee to pick blooming primrose.
Again red maple leaves lit in sunbeam,
like burning flame reflected distant dream,
again blooming primrose filled fragrant sea,
like flowing stream flowed through red maple tree.
South wind shaked maple leaves rained overhead,
and paved red lovesickness filled mountain head.