Hanakotoba: The Japanese Language Of Flowers

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Oriental Burst

I can lose myself when listening to the bulrushes swaying,
Those long grasses mesmerizingly casting my mind,
Back to days of aromatic gardens and bursts of colour displaying,
Awakened sensations, blossoms of paradise and other perfumed designs,

When gentle breezes of innocence arouse and tickle buds seductively,
Enhancing their beauty, and hinting of bright new days ahead,
Filled with refreshing sensitivity and a once forgotten tranquillity,
Reminding me, that barren grounds are far from dead,

With me, scars from a past that prove my life was real,
And dreams and murmurings grazing in my yesterdays,
Do l understand now with comprehension that time does heal,
And that shadows from afore could disappear on dying sun rays,

Golden mirrors and scented bouquets hinting of so many blossoms,
Softly encouraging the many shades of grey to moonlight,
And enticing thoughts of ghostly memory from all my lost gardens,
The day as night is as long from midnight.

© Rory Matier 2012

 

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