Laying under a cherry tree on a windy afternoon
I feel your fingertips running around my hand
Touching softly my once lonely skin
The soft scratch of your nails
Is nothing other than lovely
But not as much as you.

In a matter of seconds,
A breeze threw a few petals on to your face.
You instantly shut your eyes.
Is that gesture.
Is your petrified face.
It is me wondering how something so soft could scare you.

Then I recall,
They are not just petals.
They are the flower bouquet your dad gave to your mom
With the note that said he was leaving.

They are the millions of times you craved from him to be there
Along with the tears of your 8 year old brother
Sliding all the way through his face wondering where his “Poppa” was
And you,
Closing your eyes to avoid seeing your mother cry.

And then I remember,
How something as sweet as the petals terrify you
And how I’d feel as if it burnt your face if they touch you
So I’d cut down the tree
If it meant for nothing to ever hurt you again.