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By and For Inland NW Writers

Walking through the park I see, cherry blossoms falling from the trees.

 

Gently floating on the breeze, their wondrous fragrance makes me sigh.

 

With the sun caressing my face, they take me to a distant place.

 

A beautiful woman with lips that tasted like cherry wine.

                                                                                                    

Her face I can still see, and what it meant to be home with thee.

 

Like the cherry blossoms floating down.

 

Never even making a sound.

 

As they land upon the ground.

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