Cherry Tree

Upon a languid summer day,
As the wind tickles every timber twig,
I find myself resting under this cherry tree.
Initial buds of flowers, Like a maiden awaiting to bloom
Guard upon its branches,
Like robins upon picket fences.
A sweet smelling fragrance,
Hovers in the air,
Fondling and caressing my skin, nose, Hair and bones,
Like a lover breathless moans.

While between the soft moist ferns I lay,
In the shadows seductive.
A mirage starts lurking my way,
Slowly sketching in the sizzling heat.
Young man with chestnut thick locks,
Upon his head like woven gold.
Eyes a further vibrant blue,
Than brightest sapphire gems,
That a queen’s crown condemns.
Body of a tiger wild,
Every muscle bursting through,
In outlines like a ornate web,
Of a spider with ample thread.

Every single drip of sweat,
Like stolen treasures in a crow’s nest,
Glisten, shine and blind the eye,
A delusion more stunning, luscious,
Than I’d provoke to comprise.
Swiftly, like a panther agile,
He swoops at me,
Like an eagle, rapid, vigorous,
A hunter with its captured prey.
Excitement, vigor, thrill and threat,
Chill me to the bone,
As if the intense sun rays, I could feel no more.

And out of nowhere,
Warm and gentle,
A breeze comes blowing by.
Awaking me from my sweet dreaming,
Another mirage, intense illusion,
Swept gently into the sky.