when autumn dies, it's like an abstract painting.
atop the asphalt float the leaves with gentle flair,
caress the surface of the grey sandpaper
and picasso would approve this incessant contrasting
of beauty and its death imbuing the ground.
when winter arrives, the masterpiece is erased.
snow gleaming over once attempted art,
turned white and tamed until uneasily calm
like the faces of those who have numbed from being apart
from dearests and "those who they cannot do without".
(c) 2004 mai kozai, in japan
silence is also music. {6:20 PM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
