A momentary embrace now locked in Time’s cold crystal like a bud in amber forever preserved. Never bloomed, the imagined flowered fragrance, musky and sweet, lingers. Lingers in the nose as a dream memory.
Holding the amber gem, they see what was, not what could be, but can they not mourn the loss? Like so many other.
Time. She never looks back and wonders. Forward, unceasing, she plods.
They walk, hand-in-hand, through the grove of cherry trees as a warm evening breeze separates the last petals from their buds. Moonlit, they flitter back and forth like snow and blanket the earth to which they return. He is afraid.
Soft rain settles in to the thirsty soil.
Brave new shoots reach to a tentative sun.
You embrace me and lift me up.
Tender roots stretch.