by Michael Skinner

Created on: April 04, 2010   Last Updated: May 01, 2010

It is Spring

And the whole world is petal wonderful.

Bright petals

Pink as flesh

Thick as snow

Sharp and fringed at the edges

And pink to the point of madness

An old man in an arbor growing hope

And cherries and apples.

She was tiny and running and

Dark to the point of Africa

And she pointed to the tree with a pudgy finger

And said “don't forget the white ones!”

As though I would.

She was cute and foreign

And her father

The source of all her blackness

Waited for her and the end of the path

And made sure that none dare bruise

The petals of his very own flower.

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