An Ode to Blossom

It’s like snow in spring,

Nature’s confetti,

Swirling in the breeze.

Round and round,

Up into the sky,

Floating along.

A pink blanket on the park,

The cars and the road,

A drift by the kerb.

Then down pours the rain,

Turning petals to mush,

Pink to brown.

Then the blossom is gone,

Til next year at least,

For our snow in spring.

So we can tell my future career path won’t involve any poetry, but blossom time of year is such a beautiful time. You just want to scoop it off the floor and throw it in the air and dance as it floats to the ground. Not something I’ve ever done, but maybe next year I’ll borrow my niece and then we can look as silly as we like and passers-by just go, ‘Aww, how lovely’. Oh the joys of being a child!