These cherry blossoms drifting everywhere
These cherry blossoms drifting everywhere,
My senses overwhelmed but not yet gone.
This fog, it clouds my vision here and there,
I wonder just how far from here to yon
Because I must know if I bid it stay,
Or if it's simply better to let go.
I know the answer yet, but still I pray:
The fog is sweet, is mine, is all I know.
I can't imagine life without this fire.
For what? or why? How would I live therein?
Why me? 'Twas not my wish, hope, or desire,
But I'm in love with one and thus I sin.
It's wrong—it's right—and here solutions lie;
Who dies: cherry-scented sin,
Quel Saige's Other Poems
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