In the Manner of the Middle Kingdom

I yearn for you
and the warmth that lingered
even after you were gone
from the marriage bed
but the geese are gone
as the bears slumber
and icicles melt on my head
as I stand in the Summer Pavilion
where first we kissed

On the paths that we once
walked hand in hand
I can not even stand

the snows that blind my sight
do not allow me
the gentle desolation of
forgetfulness

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