Three long weeks
Since all turned to grey.
The season changed: her last gasp breath
Bore you away.
Your absence hangs
Like smoke upon the air
And though cherry trees begin to bloom
Their branches seem bare.
Fourteen days
Till colour ascends.
Pink shall dance upon the breeze
Each verdant branch bend.
These hours we steal
Glow vivid and real
Until we part once again;
All hues transposed
To shades of grey.
