Cherry Tree

From a selection of poetry I wrote about the 1st World war.

When I thought that I no longer
had tears enough to moisten
the darkening pupils and pearly whites,
something sunk through and caused
me to break away once more
and chase the swifts that
landed on the roof.
Smile and choke I did
but could not understand why.
As I hummed the world thundered on;
they’re not interested in one me
and can’t hear the sounds of one
fallen… cherry. Sweet and round
but sometimes bitter; married to
a stalk that splinters and as it
rips it’s tossed aside; it has
no purpose once its lover’s died.
Fear and loss glides me high
but all I can imagine is a place to
die. Where all that could be and
ever has been, rests above me on the
blossoms of the cherry tree.