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.