The cherry blossom is out in my garden, and as we enjoy its brief moment of splendour, I can think of no better excuse for some “proper poetry”. So, here’s my tribute to spring’s most fabulous diva.
To Cherry Blossom
Vain cherry blossom, loud and peacock-proud,
You flutter at the oak tree with disdain,
His spring display is workaday and plain,
Whilst yours draws veneration from the crowd.
You flourish and you flaunt – your fans are wowed –
It seems you’ve won spring’s pageant once again,
But soon, and with a showman’s sigh of pain,
You’ll make them weep – you’ll tumble to the ground.
Yet I’ll not cry – just as, I must confess,
I won’t mourn midnight fireworks, come the dawn,
Or grieve the short life of a wedding dress.
Like gorgeous gift-wrap chosen to impress,
Your brevity’s no burden to be born –
No, therein lies your true seductiveness.
© Nina Parmenter 2018
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