My dads face has lines
That formed so slowly no one noticed.
The Pollen falling is another thing
you don’t see
Until its covered some shiny
Through the glass, down at dried up rivers
Look at the lines on dads face
The tears that must’ve flowed here.
Raspberry painted paper plates
I surrender to cherry blossoms,
Petals parachuting and armies of white,
So springs first pure sunlight
Can sink through me fully.
Then tears can carve canyons
In my face for fifty years too,
And no one will notice.