Nothing beats the pink perfection of a Japanese spring. Blue skies rain pink petals that gently float to the fragile floor. Happiness consumes you, romance perfumes the sweet air, echoes of laughter quietly hum along.
Under the cherry blossom trees, hope resides, safety embraces and its devastating beauty sweeps over, blindly mesmerizing you.
Under the cherry blossom trees, smiles are warm hellos and kisses are kind goodbyes.
Under the cherry blossom trees, I live in an innocent hope.
Yet in spite of its endless promises, under the cherry blossom trees lies a tragic love. A love affair that ends as quickly as it began leaving you morose and withdrawn. A selfish love that wrongfully deceives, fracturing an already broken heart.
As I stoically stand secretly begging it to last just a little longer, the cherry blossoms trees purposelessly ignore my whispering cries leaving me wilted.
When I thought I found you, you quietly disappeared. All under the cherry blossom trees.
Jenson recommends: Remembering that cherry blossoms may only last two weeks but they always return.
Side note: In Japanese culture, the sakura (桜) or cherry blossom is a beloved symbol of hope.