outside the soft gray sky watched me mournfully,
on page 419--which I turned to filled with a haunting feeling of sorrow,
somehow knowing there would be unsolvable crimes soon,
a loss both tragic and unstoppable--a single petal from a cherry blossom
clung to unread words, nearly transparent with hope, I guessed,
it was like love pink and innocent and bitter before it could be explained,
or felt on whispering spring winds, I folded my bookmark
absently, tossed the ideas, the foreshadow, the vanity into the ether,
it was all meaningless, just a track on loop, a song on repeat
and if you don't get it, what I'm getting at, then you've never read it
or felt it or denied it, you've never found a helpless pink lifeless thing
under overcast skies
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