Pink blossoms falling,
warriors falling in kind;
Portland in springtime.

Hale, hearty hana
aloft on the vernal winds,
transient beauty.

Cut down in my prime,
someday, I, too, shall fall down,
fading into dirt.

Like my mother did,
and my father before me,
returning to dust.

Until then, I fight;
Until then, I carry on,
a blossom in Spring.