as the blossoms sat upon the branches on the last day of
March, and the honey bees were nowhere to be found, the storm arose. winds and
rain spiraled in the air; down came blossom one. she was a beautiful one, as vibrant
as a city when night falls. despite this, blossom one had a true identity, she couldn’t
bear the pain she felt. the mahogany branch had been puncturing her petals the
whole time, yet you couldn’t tell due to her radiance of beauty. the pain mixed with
wind was too much. she fell.
then came blossoms two and three. They fought their way through the battle of
April showers and did not win. the rains carried them to a far away place. blossom
four was old, weak. she had withered and said goodbye to the world forever in a
simple flutter to the ground. blossom five. she had not yet bloomed, but
dreamed of being as beautiful as the rest of them. she latched onto the branch with
all her might, as all the others around her started to drop one by one. day one of
May. one blossom stood on the highest branch, alone, surrounded by the homes of
those who fell. she finally bloomed.