“The Self Prescribed Cherry Tree”

Blossom in spring, wilt in winter, my leaves…

Petals I mean, just are part of me, are

Precious parts that leave each time the cold seeps.

Times don’t support petals. Lovely they are

To me. Valued they’re not to them maybe.

Wood is valued say they. Destroy me for

Wood and build something worth more than what’s me.

Petals fall, settle below, crushed on their floor.

Always I thought I was cherry blossom.

Ask then I am cherry blossom or tree?

Blossoms, pretty, they are lives so short, from

Only Spring to Winter though, life not quite me.

Cherry tree it must be then, but can they make from

Me something worth more than petals or tree?