Sorrow (11,11,12,12)

I once felt sorrow for the Cherry blossom,
Whipped and beaten in the late winter winds.
It gave its offering’s too early in the year,
Battered and torn before the arrival of spring.

By summer it was a painful memory,
Distant yet as vivid as the real thing.
But this autumn I found why I was mistaken,
Saw how my sympathy was selfish and misplaced.

I saw emptiness in my life yet felt joy,
Remembered that moments are only fleeting.
Finally learning to love without holding on,
Has allowed me to finally forget my pain.