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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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