Cherry blossoms dancing in the wind,
Landing on my silent fingertips.
In my hands, beauty that I can touch,
But looking up, there’s much more I can see.
Darting round the trees, a phantom deer,
Staring with its dewy eyes at me,
And there it fizzles into misty winds,
Whilst drinking in the sight of blossom streams
I’m sitting gently by the river’s edge.
The sparkling, ghostly koi that leap and splash,
Into a stream that had sat still for years,
Before I dipped my toes into the dreams.
My bright imagination closed its eyes,
Only to lull into a fitful sleep,
As there I sit, the beauty of the real
Has never been quite good enough for me.