You and I
tie cherry stems with our tongues,
listening to the rain beat upon on the ground, and nestle gently on flower petals.
I tie mine in a knot first, but you follow seconds after.
"What is the most beautiful thing on this Earth?"
"I'm not sure, for I have not seen everything on it."
We pluck more ripe cherries off the tree, remove the stems, and repeat.
The rain lessens gradually, the Moon reveals herself and the crickets play their usual symphony. The Earth has an abundance of splendors to compare, therefore, you cannot choose merely one and deem it to be the most beautiful of them all. I wanted to tell You that, but I don't think You would understand.