Laying under a cherry tree on a windy afternoon I feel your fingertips running around my hand Touching softly my once lonely skin The soft scratch of your nails Is nothing other than lovely But not as much as you.

In a matter of seconds, A breeze threw a few petals on to your face. You instantly shut your eyes. Is that gesture. Is your petrified face. It is me wondering how something so soft could scare you.

Then I recall, They are not just petals. They are the flower bouquet your dad gave to your mom With the note that said he was leaving.

They are the millions of times you craved from him to be there Along with the tears of your 8 year old brother Sliding all the way through his face wondering where his “Poppa” was And you, Closing your eyes to avoid seeing your mother cry.

And then I remember, How something as sweet as the petals terrify you And how I’d feel as if it burnt your face if they touch you So I’d cut down the tree If it meant for nothing to ever hurt you again.