The garden of the Garden State teems with new flora. Mira and I stride the grounds on an unseasonably warm, sunny good Friday. Forsythias and daffodils almost shine as they bask in the afternoon radiance.
The white Cherry blossoms have just peaked, while their pink cousins already fade. We stride among giants I could not have imagined, in awe of the fullness of the pale bloom. Somehow, my trembling hand finds yours.
even beside you
hearing your sigh
this sakura life
is not enough
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