Ever the same.
It would not occur to a Tōkyō editor to invite his readers in the silly season to answer the question, “Have women a sense of humour?” But, if it did, such quatrains as follow might convince him that they have:
Warning.
I am my master’s
Single-flowered cherry;
Folk seeking blossom
Bend no boughs here.
Waiting.
All night I waited,
Yet my lord came not;