White chrysanthemum
its billowing ostrich plume
is music's flower
This Spring
is baptism by chrysanthemum
The air so sweet
its current plays
in opacity
Like how
the saddest notes
float as apparition
Nylon strings
mingle with Jamaica rum
And from the street
the melody sways
in the weaver's audacity
The flowers bow
they weep then float
their beauty is their contrition
Across the water
Chrysanthemums bone white
reserved only for the dead
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