It Came Into My Mind
it came into my mind what she started as a riddle.
syllables of life.
and of the seasons.
nine syllables for her till blooming till wilting
of the chrysanthemum, those which are not so white
against the snowy mountain of Fuji
two syllables for her brief stay in the woods
when she comes back as part of the wood itself
the twigs mourn for her
the leaves do not sing and the river stops flowing.
i ask myself, now that i have learned what syllables stand for.
how many syllables do i need to love you completely?
i have only one for you. The rest shall be my lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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