Pines plaintively sway,
silhouetted by the moon.
Easterly mountain,
topped with snowy fringed bonnet,
weeping waterfalls
enough to flow bitter streams
into ponds, bereft,
where Koy wish for something more
and my old reflection sighs.

Ripples twist my face
into strange mementos of
my wildly grown youth
carved by Time's keen Katana
and tattered by life's regret.