Thousand Petals

The sky is a violet painting
and the sun is a red brush.

Along the river, bamboos whisper,
maybe wishing to remaining stars.
And on the bridge, no one stands
to glance at white and red carps;
they swim over pebbles of granite
in cold water made of crystal.

Here comes the first breeze of the day
greeting the queen of the cherry trees.
Over the hill, she wonders about nothing
and each one of her thousand petals
is a piece of a broken heart.

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- Originally published in the Cow Creek Review 2009/2010, the Pittsburg State University's Literary Magazine, p. 241 (Kansas, United States).