BLOSSOM
Blossom drifts — it veils the trees,like silent snow at break of day;
the scent of spring rides gentle breeze,
while trembling sun in mist holds sway.
Petals fall — as though from skies
some sorrow softly to earth is cast;
in each one trembles, quiet and wise,
a distant longing, blue and vast.
The meadow sways — the wind declares:
the birds depart for lands unknown;
shadows dance as if in prayers,
across mute earth and river-stone.
Silence tolls on waters clear,
as though the past in waves still lies;
the heart preserves a memory dear
that in the twilight slowly dies.
Through the branches winds speak far,
owls pass like dreams without a sound;
and spring writes where the still fields are
its final verse on fading ground.
Blossom falls — all fades away,
like tears the chest can no longer hold;
spring departs — yet still will stay
its quiet light within the soul.
Poetry by Maria Deyana
Written on 2026-06-15 at 21:04
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