new spring, old sorrows

There have been countless springs in my life when I did not even dare to expect something good to happen. The beauty of a tree in bloom just used to make me shed a few tears, cause my soul was asleep, trying hard to heal its wounds. There has always been someone well cuddled in it, though not next to me. Yet, even in my hardest times, every little leaf or blade of grass seemed to me a miracle worth admiring.I was just like the young cherry tree in a forgotten garden, springing its  blooming branches to the sky in a self-giving gesture of pure beauty.

Now that I have come back to life and am no longer alone, I count the fiftieth spring of my life with care for its frailty. The white petals have covered the scars of my soul and drowned its wailing,but flowers wither , spring passes, love changes. I cannot stop time from flying away, I can't help but weep over the butterflies that die.