Syrup and Snow
He had offered her a bowl of iced plum syrup
Beneath the canopy of budding blossoms
And fluttering leaves
It was smooth and sweet
But the general's heartwarming gesture
Was far greater than any desert
The maid had ever seen
Beneath the icy exterior was just a man
Whose starry eyes housed a tender gleam
His rough calloused hands swung a blade with ease
But his tender palms were clumsy in her grasp
His gaze met hers
Their fingers interlocked
Time seemed to freeze indefinitely
They promised each other
Underneath the pastel tapestry
In the ethereal dawn sky
One day they'll share another bowl
Next time there would be more
Of that velvety desert
When winter struck, the gardens froze over
Falling snow blanketed the gardens
Trapping the blossoms in white cordons
The maid was bedridden with illness
But the general had found her cure
He offered it to her with trembling hands
But perished in the cold
For he had succumbed in his foolish pursuit
She took the tonic he offered
And noticed something else he left behind
A small bowl of iced plum syrup
When she downed it, all traces of velvety sweetness had gone away
All that was left was a prevailing sour aftertaste
Along with deafening emptiness
And the sound of falling snow beating outside her room