Change

I came upon a maiden Blowing rose petals in the air And catching them, as they fell, Upon quick fingertips Her laugh fell lighter than the petals And dropped little gestures upon my forehead. I gave her sadness and she blew it up As she had blown the rose petals: And it almost seemed joy as her fingers caught it. But I was only a wanderer plaited with dust, Who gave her new petals to play with.