Chiyoko

Might as well have been Fujiwara Chiyoko,

chasing the shadow of a dead soldier

across the Japan in mid winter,

in war,

between earthquakes,

My dear, love sick girl,

there is no warm hearth at the end of the road.

No face you'd recognize

not even your own,

only shadows,

only mist and maybe the shock of winter

in your bones speaking truth,

that it is this half awake dream

that kept you strong

that kept you pushing

that whispered to you in the dark,

“won't you stay for a little while longer?

There's a kind face right down the road,

and over that bridge,

and across that river,

and over the mountain,

and even further

just a little further,

so please, stay,

dream for a just little longer.”

Author's Note

for future playing-with and changing.