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Cherry blossom dreaming


Watermelon dancers’ skirts
Are draped on speckled bark.
A chorus with the smallest feet,
The singing of a lark.

I wonder where their owners rest
With trusting, pure hearts.
I nestle in to drink perfume,
What bliss their tutus spark.

These ladies sleeping in the woods
With mushrooms for a tent.
The gurgling of a waterfall,
The mossy carpet’s scent.

Tiaras stacked in hollowed trunks,
Scuffed pointe shoes on a rock.
Translucent stockings fluttering,
A woodpecker’s soft knock.

The hush of wings, the quiet light,
The puff of jasmine’s smell.
I must not wake the tired sprites
So tiptoe from the dell.

The wonder of these springtime blooms,
The embers they ignite.
Emotions that are brought to life,
I soar like silken kite.

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