I watch the cherry blossom petals fall

Off of their brown, rigid branch.

The pale pink blade

Floating to the ground like a feather.

The cold chilly air will be gone in a few months,

Then you will start to grow back on your branch.

It will continue, every year, without stop.

Until the snow melts and the air becomes warm,

We will not see your imperfectly perfect shade of pink

outside our window.