Some Wednesday Words

Ode to a Cherry Blossom
 
When I was young, each year I’d know
to run below, the single snow
of Spring’s full grace, while in a breeze, 
to dress my hair in caught debris.
 
And now a teen, I’m locked away.
Beyond, I see it sprout silk white,
for winter’s wind has gone astray
and left behind such gay a sight!
 
Though led inside my barren room,
where through the panes I hear it’s air,
and buried under laundry dunes,
I’m coaxed by wrath and hot despair:
 
Yet, here, alone, I do remain
condemned behind this iron wall,
because a lone but wanton brain,
protest and curse, my soiling call!
 
When locked inside this filthy place,
these tempting thoughts give birth to worse:
I’ll never hear my saving grace.
Fate is an endless stare...a dirge?
 
I wish wind brush both hair and bone,
to wear their gentle bliss in peace.
Man cannot live on bread alone
but by every word that proceeds.
 
A whisper from the King who sings:
to jump through shattered glass and fall
amid the swirl of pinks, I’d bawl
for He who brings the snow of Spring.