Cherry Blossoms

Withered blossoms
drop
     like
                stones
into nothing,
the crater
of
the past
that never returns
what
falls
into its grasp.
But
a few buds remain—
wearied, badgered warriors
on
the battlefield—
defiant,
resilient,
holding fast to hope,
waiting
for Spring—
their deposed queen,
returning
to reign in the sun.

 

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