by Alec Alaggio Jul 8, 2017
What if a Cherry Blossom does not?
What is it called then?
I’m a skeleton too, all bones.
You may not sprinkle petals, but you cast a shadow still.
If I rest against you, you’ll support me, won’t you?
There, there, don’t answer that.
I trust you.
There, there, there. Someone once told me that trees speak with the wind;
A shiver, a shake, a bend.
You’re still, you must not be in the mood.
I get that like that sometimes.
Maybe you forgot to bloom, and that’s why you don’t want to talk.
That’s not always bad, listening is harder to do in all honesty.
I have this foggy dream about bending down to greet my future daughter as she hurls her small body into my arms,
and I say how are you my love and as I rise up she squeaks into my ear that she had the best day and she learned about the Apollo missions and she missed me.
And when I smile, I smile like I never have before, and my smile doesn’t stop growing and it overtakes my face, my head, my body, my daughter, the dream itself.
And as the last of it is consumed, my smile disappears too. A rustle in the branches.