The Cherry Tree
She remembers the cherry trees were in bloom when she met him,
Time rolls back,
In a humble cafe, drinking tea,
A man leans across and catches her arm,
Spectacled, blue eyes, with tightly cropped hair,
He looks like a man who cares,
Making a phone call, he asks her to mind his seat,
Six foot tall, he dresses so neat,
He strides out like a man who knows about life, there are no repeats.
She watches him through the glass revolving doors,
Pacing about his powerful physique, making her feel quite meek,
Gliding back towards her like some heroic Greek god,
He sits down beside her,
She feels so flattered, her life begins to matter,
He is a teacher by profession, a poet always in a session,
Their eyes strike gold, as he allows her into his fold,
They kiss, hot, succulent, finding their secret bliss.
Living is his kind of giving,
He is always ahead of the game,
Wanting so bad to have fame,
Sameness is a death never met,
Every day is a gamble, a long shot bet,
He sees the beauty behind all the grime,
Colours merge, places diverge, everything rhymes.
A world wide traveller, nations he conquers,
With his engaging wit,
Spreads countries before her vivid blue eyes,
'We will travel in style, allow the globe to become an everyday surprise! '
His hand strong to her touch,
They romance, dance, till their fragile spirits entrance.
This is all a long time ago,
They didn't make it past the post,
Problems arose, they came to a grinding halt,
She is an old woman now as she stares out her opened window,
The cherry tree is in full bloom,
She feels those moments with him still, so real,
Sealed in Pandora's box never to be healed,
Knowing her tender heart had dwelled in a place,
That was home.
The cherry tree in her pale pink and white dress,
Blowing serenely in the soft breeze,
It's blossoms swirling around her garden,
Flutters through her opened window,
They land on her ever so softly,
Thoughtfully the splendour of their romance,
Ignites her eyes like an everyday surprise.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Cherry Tree by Hazel Durham )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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