We stand together in this tamed forest.
You have asked me to come.
You run your hand through your hair as,
I ask you if you love me.
The Cherry Blossoms are the eternal witnesses.
Witnesses of this ritual, a ritual of love.
Many times they have heard the same reply.
How can I expect you to understand my meaning?
I forgot, you are afraid of love.
I turn to leave, my question answered.
Four words that crush my heart, linger.
Of course I do, your reply.
I turn to leave you, you who can’t love me.
A warm hand falls on my shoulders, it is yours.
Wait, you say, and I look again.
I look again at your dark eyes and,
You take your gloves off, finally.
What else could such words mean?
I love someone who can’t love me.
Your reply has made that clear.
The Cherry Blossoms, the eternal witnesses.
I love you, I do. I love you so much; your words.
Your words strike my heart,
Awakening within me, hope.
How soft your hands are, how tan, as
Your gloves fall to the brilliantly tiled floor.
Your eyes, filled with genuine emotion.
Your arms are wrapped around me.
Your hands are so warm on my back.
Your lips are so soft against mine.
The Cherry Blossoms have always known.
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