Blossoms of the Cherry Tree
In the misty morning,
I can see her face,
This great woman,
Of the human race.
She smiles so softly,
That her eyes smile too,
You know her heart,
Is filled with love for you.
Her blue eyes shining,
Makes life a dream,
Melts you heart,
Like hot whipped cream.
Showing her love,
Is an easy thing,
As if brought by a dove,
In the early spring.
This woman I love,
Where can she be,
Sitting under blossoms,
Of the cherry tree.
So sweet,
So divine,
Brought back,
From another time.
She knows all this,
As well as I do,
I long for her kiss,
Her sweet love too.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008
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