My Tokyo Guy Poem by Claire Ann Sansolis

My Tokyo guy

There was a season of music
where harmonies met like light through stained glass,
where admiration rose softly —
not demanding,
not claiming —
just alive.

A respectful presence.
A shared surrender in worship.
Petals in the air.

I let them bloom.

I did not chase them.
I did not build a garden around them.
I watched them drift —
beautiful because they were temporary.

And I smiled.

Because I am not a drifting thing.

I am rooted.

Rooted in covenant.
Rooted in a love that calls me queen.
Rooted in a God who fills every longing
before it can turn into lack.

I can appreciate excellence
without needing to own it.
I can feel a spark
without turning it into flame.
I can miss a moment
and still remain whole.

The blossoms fall.
The tree remains.

And I —
I am both wonder and wisdom.
Soft enough to feel deeply,
strong enough to let go.

What was beautiful, I release.
What is lasting, I choose.
What is mine, I cherish.

And I am at peace. 🌸