Our Cherry Tree

our love was like a cherry tree
whose flowers fall like snow
through their pink haze we failed to see
as crow by evil crow
took refuge upon every branch
until at last, their murder's stench
each hungry, sharpened beak --
misfortune's what they seek --
until at last, its fruit decayed
the tree now naked and afraid
produced just one more berry

I reach for it, though wary

Author notes: picture by  Chiara Bautista