It moves like a melody,

Gently through my mind.

It blossoms like spring flowers.

And wafts away like fragrance.

But when it is captured in words

And placed before my eyes.

It turns pale like a gray mist.

And disappears like a breath.

​And yet, remaining in my rhymesThere hides still a fragrance.

Which mildly from the quiet bud.

My moist eyes call forth.