In the quiet dawn, cherry blossoms fall,
Gentle whispers of the past, a silent call.
Through bamboo groves, where shadows play,
Time flows quietly, like a river’s sway.

Geishas glide with grace in the evening light,
Their laughter soft, like a bird in flight.
Tea leaves swirl in a porcelain cup,
Stories of old, they gently stir up.

Under the watchful gaze of Mount Fuji’s peak,
The spirit of old Japan begins to speak.
In temples where incense curls and sways,
Prayers linger in the golden rays.

Lanterns glow in the vibrant night,
Guiding souls with their gentle light.
In the heart of Japan, life unfolds,
A tale of beauty, silently told.