A Love in Old Japan

Delicate ink on old russet parchment
Paints the side down in ancient kanji-print.
Thin and thick black lines of Japan's calligraphy,
Each character-stroke is striking and spirited!
It brushes an image of great fragility
Faded pink against paper the color liken to sand
Overlaps the drawn mountain tops; the peaks of old Japan

Through morning mist over Nagasaki
The red sun shone onto the rocks and sea,
And glinted its sifting rays off beads of fresh dew.
Which glided off white blossoms and hackberry leaves,
In the first months of spring when petals are anew.
Mei sojourned at the river as the crimson dawn began.
Waves beat 'gainst the grainy shore, in springtime of old Japan

Down by clear waters was where they had met
In gentleman's greeting, Seiji's waist had been bent
In lady decorum, Mei had mirrored his bow.
In conversation, they walked near the rivulet
'Til they found a boat, and, in the river, sailed down.
They drifted through pillared gates, where red-painted temples stand
Mantled with upward, curving roofs, the shrines of old Japan

From pale-pink April into mid-summer
They two took fancy in one another
O' with paper-lanterns in tawny hues, a'glow
They would leave their homes, to call onto their lover.
In romantic embraces they came nose-to-nose.
One eve, Seiji knelt with diamonds upon a golden band;
To her he gave his life and heart, a love in old Japan