Their life is as short as the fragrance that blankets a valley floor
He lies in a volcanic crater, weapon at hand as shell casings break the spring air
Not knowing neither season nor time of day the cherry blossom falls to earth
Casing pleated in pink magenta, the river runs red, the valley floor
Turns with quiet forgiving moans of loss and lust, of hopelessness, of tears
As shivering souls fail earths bounty, fraught in the fragrance of Cherry Blossom’s
Can you smell that?
Distant, before the sun bleaches the day
Rolling streams float a scent through foliage laced in rich black soil give way
To the tide of black coral sand, steam rising at dawn-warm as any woman’s breast the
Pleated surf lap’s as I drift from this hellish dream
Red flowers, blood red, can you smell that
They lie in open fields, bodies swollen beyond repair
They are your dreams of a better day, a future
Their lies my Father’s youth, laced in rich black soil
Draped and resting in the Cherry Blossom, can you smell that? JPN
