The Cherry Tree - Poem by Natasha Foster
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.
Comments about The Cherry Tree by Natasha Foster
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You