Falling For You, Falling From You

Twinkling groundward in bellowing winds,
The blossoms tremble, subtle, soft, and pale,
Painting the ground with spring’s own fleeting snow;
No two are alike, but all from trees fall.
Sol paces the sky, great fire in hand,
As I stand beneath, wishing we could mend.

Never again can blossom with tree mend,
Forever forlorn in whispering winds.
Thus I would hold you, prized petal, in hand,
With your beauty so elegant and pale,
Yet with eager grasp, from tree I too fall,
Further from you into boundless blushed snow.

But I see you too waft down toward soft snow,
Fearing the decline much less than a mend.
Crestfallen, you yield to defeat and fall,
Gifting your path to directionless winds.
Now cold and alone, your heart trembles, pale,
Craving no more than the warmth of my hand.

Yet more than desire, you fear my hand,
Lost in our passing infinity, snow,
And confused by feelings never to pale.
Now more than ever I wish we could mend,
Not succumbing to the unfeeling winds.
Losing my petal, from Eden I fall,

As transient summer dreams turn to fall;
Shyly you drift from the matter at hand,
Shouting my name only in wistful winds,
Fearing some reply from the swirling snow.
You wish Nature alone could two souls mend,
As they stray apart under sunset pale,

With fiery yearning forced to glow pale.
Though all blossoms inevitably fall,
We alone were given the chance to mend;
Evermore I offer a loving hand,
For Time cannot melt deep feelings like snow,
Whose strength brings quiescence to fiercest winds.

Our destined path winds, as you smile so pale,
Beyond short-lived snow and the peace of fall,
Your hand in my hand, with us on the mend.