A fence dirtied by dust continues,
Leaves turn from red to yellow.
Recollections accumulate upon the path of memory. As if spreading white linen.
Seasons hold four keys, slip off the stairs. The entrance is shut again.
The green tree is hollow. When hit, it sounds.
While night sneaks out.
I am sad like the skin of the boy in the sky.
Eternity cuts between us.
I lose countless images to that other side.
Copyright © 2015 Chika Sagawa
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.