We laid our cloth on roots and earth

and sat against the sickle moon

and there heard strains of drunken mirth

beneath the cherry blossom bloom

Her porcelain face

a floating mask

suspended on a string

was akin to the moonlit blossoms

blotting out all sight

of branches snaking into night

From fluted crystal sipped our wine

and feeling emboldened and divine

confessed my love, my heart, my mind

But alas,

in that heavy silence

in that delicate space between

..my inspiration seemed

                                   to sink

Beneath the earth  

and festive din

to a place most doleful

dank and deep, where

blind roots, groping

seek forgetfulness and sleep

There I faintly heard

those muddled words

reverberate

again, again, again

                                  again

from that hole in my head

for a mouth

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Note: 

Hanegi Koen is one of many parks in Tokyo, in which the cherry blossom season (Hanami) is celebrated.