Frozen like an ice palace, her whole world was covered in fallen snow. The Spring Garden no longer resembled spring. Ponds and flower beds, once filled with jumping koi and blooming chrysanthemum were now buried. Hidden… forgotten like her. The winter winds had come and gone, leaving a trail of cold bitterness behind. Regardless of the season, she never once left her place beneath the blossom tree. With a string-less lute cradled in her arms, she sat there, wrapped only in the thinnest of silk as if it was still a warm summer’s afternoon. Her long, dark eyelashes powdered white. Time had brought nothing but fear encompassed in sorrow.

He left and summer left with him. She sat there, exactly as he had left her... with her hair tangled in golden ribbons blessed by his touch... with a heart that was not hers. The numbness from the cold was nothing compared to the numbness from being apart for so long. Silenced. If she sang, he would hear her. If she played the lute he made, he would come. If only it was still that summer’s afternoon. All would be well. She would have held him close; kissed him until he smiled. But that was then... It was different now. She hoped he would not come but in the end, he would eventually come back. She had something that belonged to him. His heart… she was the sole keeper of his heart.

The distinctive melody of his flute surged with the sudden gust of wind marking his presence. The sound of spring rain. He had come. A single tear escaped from her arctic eyes, burning a hole in the snow, piercing the earth. Ablaze, warmth from her tear dissolved the frost of winter. The ponds bubbled again. The yellow chrysanthemums beamed once more. All that was spring grew from her single teardrop. [to be continued...]