The Cherry Tree
So beautiful, it blooms,
Pink and white alike.
Not quite tall,
But tall enough to climb.
Her white dress flows,
She throws her sandals off.
One hand on the Cherry Tree,
She begins to climb.
Floating so gently to the ground,
The Cherry Blossoms go.
She reaches over and picks one cherry,
And slips it between her lips.
Her lips turning cherry red,
Her tongue and teeth, too.
A symbol of her curse, the animal inside,
Hiding her animal in the Cherry Tree.
Natasha Foster's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (The Cherry Tree by Natasha Foster )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
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(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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