Alas, my youth and my younger days are gone,

  A thousand laughter and childish plays are gone.

I am sure my loving garden will be dried,

  It is old and bitter; no more glowing pride.

In my garden, I had so much loving hearts,

  but I am old and tired, with no blooming parts.

Within this madness of spring and creation, 

  I am in solitude and desolation.

I am now old; the spring is just another night.

  From all these affairs, my hands are too tight.

I cannot smell the scent of flowering breeze,

  I can’t rest in the shade of whispering trees.

What else is there for me in spring besides pain?

  Blinded with the tears, why not to complain?

I don’t care for lilies, basils, and roses;

  The door that spring opens, the winter closes.

The spring is beautiful. Regret we’re so blind.

  I lost it like my youth; I’m out of my mind.

To me, this season is just a season of lie.

  Nothing for me to say except say goodbye.

3/16/16 Haloo