There hangs a memory
        about fifth of January

Above the cherry tree
        of my imagination

Along the river
        inside the boat
                a shiver

Runs down my spine
        in a fine line

It grows hot
        then turns cold

That memory as been sold
        a long time ago

When I first climbed that cherry tree

I fell
        fell
                fell
                        head first
                                into the water

Of a wet dream
        when I was five.

        © Dominik Alexander / 2022