The Cherry trees

[alonso ramoran]

Hi Keith,
This is a wonderful poem you've got here. Just a thought on the beginning below

Final edit for now thanks to all for the help
On the beginning, I do agree with Achebe on how the names were good. I enjoyed them for how personal they seemed to the narrator.
In heavy rain
underneath dripping branches
we dispersed you,
watched you,
watered down swirling into eddies, 
sinking underground.

You'd burst bright into life
all pink and white,
our summers waiting
for your first smile.

I'd like to think it was the sunlight
filtered through the white blossom,
that found the corner of your mouth
and snatched away your breath,
but they never really told us.

In the quiet of our home
lemon walls were waiting,
the farm yard mobile above your cot
clicked on,
a single chime that made me
close the door.

I pour myself some tea
and look to the garden,
the trees now are fully grown,
and still they lay down
their blankets,
giving up each short life
to help keep you warm,
as they do every year.


Edit 2

In heavy rain
underneath dripping branches
we dispersed you, watched you,
swirling into eddies, watered down
sinking underground.

Maybe it was the sunlight,
filtered through the white blossom,
or Spring's first false whisper
that found the corner of your mouth,
carried you away,
a milky sweetness on the breeze,
drifting out beyond the trees,
trading your breath as nectar
to help each flower grow.

In the quiet of our home
lemon walls were waiting,
the mobile above your cot
clicked on,
a single chime
that made me close the door.

I poured some tea
and looked to the garden,
the trees have grown
yet still they lay down their blankets,
giving up each bright short life
to keep you warm,
as they do every year.


Edit 01 Ray, achebe, Todd.

We nearly called you May
but they wanted to name you Blossom,
you burst bright into life
all pink and white,
summer still waiting for your smile.

The pram could move
from car to cradle,
carried under filtered sunlight,
a cherry flower canopy
flickered above your troubled face.

Morning couldn't help itself,
the damp had just left the ground,
insects came out to play
and you,
you were lost in a lullaby
that whispered tones of sky blue.

Maybe it was the milk bubbles
at the corner of your mouth
that carried you away,
a moments sweetness on the breeze,
trading your breath as nectar to each flower.

I've read all the other theories

In heavy rain
underneath those same branches
we dispersed you,
watched you,
watered down swirling into eddies,
sinking underground.

In the quiet of our home
lemon walls were waiting,
the mobile above your cot
clicked on,
a single chime that made me
close the door.

I poured some tea
and looked to the garden,
the trees had laid down
their blankets,
giving up their short life
to keep you warm,

as they do every year.



Original
We nearly called you May
but they wanted to name you Blossom,
you burst bright into life
all pink and white,
summer still waiting
for your smile.

The pram could move
from car to cradle,
carried under filtered sunlight,
a cherry flower canopy
softened the sting
on delicate eyes.
It was a perfect morning
the damp had just left the ground,
insects had come to play
and you were lost to its
lullaby.

I would like to think
the beauty of that day
took away your breath
but there are other theories
I've read too many times.

On a cold blustery day
underneath those branches
we dispersed you, watered down
swirling into eddies
sinking underground.

In the quiet of our empty home
I made tea
and looked to the garden,
the trees had laid
their blankets over you,
giving up their short life
to keep you warm,

as they do every year.

Again, the final edit is a wonderful read. The imagery is so crisp and reads warmly in spite of the subject (forgive me if I'm wrong) being the death of a baby son/daughter. Thank you kindly for the read.