Spring brings such sorrows
over what can’t be renewed –
what’s dissolved in mist

White mists, so puzzling,
so beautiful – they hold all
I have lost, squandered

White mists, delicate
as profiles of those I’ve loved,
like them, never still

White mists take the shapes
of white peony blossoms
and drop white petals

White mists – no mercy,
don’t care who I see, who I
spread my arms to hug

White mists wet the grass
as spring sun rises to burn
away yesterday

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