Work Text:
The blue fan is abandoned
on your divan, lying useless
without your graceful hands.
Its fragile beauty
carries so much strength
(like you).
I should have it removed, thrown out.
But how could I be rid of this too
when you’re leaving me so soon?
Last night,
you walked into my dreams,
surrounded by the forest’s autumn leaves —
the brightest colors seen in a century.
I could smell rich earth
settling beneath our feet.
We walked to the singing river,
your hand cool in mine,
guiding me on, even when I couldn’t
pull my eyes away
from the gentle curve
of your face.
There was tea in our hands
as we sat by the river bed.
My ears could only catch
your voice, softer and stronger
than a stream carving land
into valleys.
For hours, I listened
smiling until my cheeks were sore.
In that place, that dream,
you could stay. Here, on your divan,
I can barely move.