My Writing

Cherry Tree Leaves


Once, you held me by the hand.

Once, you gave me a nudge.

Under your eye, 

I took my step


and huffed a breath,


You made me feel alive,

you opened my eyes

so I could see the world

in vivid greens and gleaming pearl.


The cherry tree leaves are so pretty tonight

as they flutter on butterfly wings.

Soft pink brushstrokes, weaving,

down from the sky.


Is this where you first spoke to me?


The bench is chipped

from hard winter nights,

when snow fell

and for the first time, stuck.


In my lungs, air grows colder,

it pierces me till I smolder,

if we keep growing older,

will you ever 


let go of my hand?


Each step I took, 

you were two steps ahead,

yet you doubled back

to help me walk.


You spoke your bold mind

and though your words 

stung sometimes

I always knew they were


from the heart.


Step by step,

breath by breath,

you carry me

and way more important:


You helped me to walk on my own.


Day by day,

night by night, 

would you

have trouble walking


if I stumbled and fell behind?


Do you remember 

meeting me

beneath the pink cherry tree

when I was too shy to live?


When you caught my eye

under the chilly spring sky,

I knew I was 

bold enough to try.


Do not kill winter — 

let the frost run its course.

If you let go of my hand, 

I promise


I’ll keep holding yours.


Photo by Maria Lupan on Unsplash