Memories shrink in my wash,
So the leaves, once verdant,
Become delicate and almost
Imperceptible, sometimes lost,
Yet nonetheless loved,
Nurtured and now as fresh
As when you placed my hands
On your hips and your obi
Slipped – I can’t remember
The music but I do remember
Your kiss, fleeting,
From where I fall recurringly.
These thoughts are the size
Of bonsai, ornamental,
Propagated, wired
To my wabi-sabi sense;
I walk through the forest
Of their sorrows then,
Counting steps to my death,
Diminutive, less than I was
Back then, when your kiss
Felt like bliss briefly lent.
Seven Hundred Jisei 