Natasha Foster

(9/8/1997)

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.

Submitted: Monday, June 10, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, July 31, 2013

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