the whisper of a cherry blossom
frozen on my lips,
ready to rustle up immortal songs
with the wind, touch the sky,
drown in the green ocean
of the spring,
free and careless…
yet, stopped by my breath,
by the rhythm of my heartbeats,
the sound of mortality, attraction of gravity,
surrender in darkness, melt with blood…
every cell flooded
with sweet sadness
I picked a feather by the door of my house,
uncertain of the value of such a useless thing,
I let it go,
opened the door,
stepped inside…
© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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