the limbs
of the cherry tree
are overladen
with fruit
that falls to the dirt
to fester
in sinful sickly sweet
decay
the branches
droop
away from
the nurturing sun
as the insects
feast on
the forgotten scraps

there are times
the weight
of the globe
seems
precariously
perched
on the
precipice of disaster
where
the only thing
stopping
full core meltdown
is her smile showering
a pocket
of blissful calm

her cherry stained lips
parted slightly
the pink tip
of her tongue
gently playing
along the edges
calling to me
the world
disappears
in the depths
of her wonder
leaving me to ponder
how any of it
matters with the knowledge
she exists