Something Blue

Pink Petals



She walks out under
the cherry trees
in blossom.

They wave gently
to her passing, petals
falling to supplicate
at her pointed heel.

Gentle green trampled
in the flicker of blond
she fidgets away her prettiness
forgetting
(this blooming lasts
only for a short time)

Do we envy the fearless
in her smile?
Or is it the turn of her hip
and upturned breast?

The petals drift, snagging
onto the beautiful stasis of youth;
a trembling anticipation
of falling
to middle ground.

See this? Bruise? Scar? This
marking on my body
saying “ I lived my life,
where you are now just walking”
(under that same pink
blossom wedding bower)

Does she hear our eyes
loudly calling out to the wind?


G.