Under the Cherry Blossom Tree

I hadn’t yet considered what it would mean when she picked the fruit from the Cherry Blossom Tree and handed it to me, her fingers slightly stained.

The tree itself reminded me of snow, but it was spring. At least I believed it was still spring, as I felt like I had seen an entire year bloom.

She was beautiful like the tree and the marvelous birds that seemed to form life long devotion on its romantically dressed limbs. Their feathers, held our thoughts in their colors, our fingerprints of desire seemed to glisten in them too.

When I put the cherry in my mouth and kissed her, I felt like we were birds. Forever paired and floating about the world.

Her lips now shared the same stain that draped her fingers and the colorful feathers of the birds were forever sewn to this image of our first, endless kiss.