Leaning on a Cane
Even in the city, come leaning on a cane,
I gaze at stream-side blossoms. Here
Mountain markets close early, and riverboats
Gather at the bridge in spring. Lighthearted
Gulls flutter among white waves. Returning
Geese delight in blue skies. All things shade
Together in earth's passion. But I, all
Desperate chill, I brood over years gone by.
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