My memories of you are all but fading,
Like the soft pink petals blowing in the breeze
On the cherry blossom tree in my backyard.
Not to be seen again until next spring.
But my memories never come back the same,
As my cherry blossoms do.
You grow further and further away each year.
And I grow anxious.
You are a distant dream.
I wake up clinging to the memory of your face
Which is fading, fading.
I am old now.
I wake up crying and I don’t remember why.
I look outside the window.
“Spring has come”, I whisper
As I admire the new buds
On the cherry blossom tree in my backyard.
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