some were mischievous, others full of reverence.
From the backdrop of fallen peach flowers,
She who wore the red scarf blew the flame.
Seconds tick and there he was
a shining goblin, godly like his name.
He bridged the distance
with reason and longing in his gaze.
She tiptoed and meet him halfway.
With smile brighter than summer
She said, “I missed you”
and patted his messy hair
Alas, the white butterfly came by
A reminder of stolen moments and lullabies.
He grabbed her hand
and placed it against his chest.
“You have to pull the sword
and let this immortality rest.”
With teary eyes, she looked away.
Shivering, she unclasps the crest.
Boldly she cried, “I will die instead.”
And hugged him closely to her breast.
From the heaven, the deity is watching
Torn between carrying out the legend
or breaking the millennium’s curse.
he watched as the cotton flowers bloom.
Which is a scarcity in the chilling winter’s air.
Under the metaphors of exquisite branches
The goblin’s bride is dearly held.
He murmured a promise
That on a good day like this
Their love will be cherished.
The heaven will not dictate their destiny
With bonded hearts and interlaced hands
Their future will never be lonely.