The Petal

I find a Cherry Blossom Petal,

on a branch, stand.

Then the Petal silently steps

into the air, to the land.

I see the Petal gracefully fall, soft and smooth,

I try to catch it, in my hand.

The Petal escapes my grasp

and the Petal keeps up the fall, still safe, still sound.

The Petal, as pure as a teardrop,

reaches the ground,

but is lost;

never found.

As I look at the hundreds

of white teardrops that have been

sitting there on the ground.

I wonder when

I would ever find

The Petal again.