Cherry Blossom Haze

The mist of the morning clings to
thick air with a brace of cold –

beautiful, distant, and fleeting –
hanging beyond fingers that yearn,

outstretched, for a delicate touch
from the borrowed light behind.

Short colours curl through shadows
and unwrap the early of day,

calm in the damp silence,
tangling with a sullen world,

as the skies weep with
powdered jewels on pale edifice,

poised just so, with bright grace,
that a lost soul might look, and dream.

cherry-blossom-haze

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