On my birthday,
I will take my tea
under the Branches
of a dying Cherry tree.
It has its scars, like I do,
raw and still exposed.
Ants have worried their way into the crevasses
and I know those wounds will not close.
But I see the buds
of the promised pink
that swirls around me
at the end of every April,
even though many of the branches
will never bear a bloom again.
It is enough that some of its branches will still flower.
It is enough that I still take up my pen.
Close up of a cluster of cherry blossom buds
thinking about blooming. They're stubborn.
Song Choice: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance (I couldn't resist using an AMV version with clips from My Hero Academia)
Liner Notes for This Groove: I pulled a double off today, utilizing both the prompt at Poet's and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #14 Let's Use Pathetic Fallacy, Shall We?) and Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Play it Again prompt, A L'Arora.