Cherry Blossoms and Dreams

If I could wander streets of Japan,

find my way through markets dense and warm,

where cherry blossoms drift, a gentle hand,

what would I feel in that far-off charm?

Old temples whisper tales of times gone,

ancient walls draped in quiet grace.

A breath of air heavy with dreams drawn,

like petals caught in the longing space.

Yet here I sit, the world a paper cage,

staring at brochures, my heart’s worn thread.

These four walls paint a less than vibrant stage,

where desires bloom, and yet remain unsaid.