the cherry blossom

The cherry blossom

The flowers smell in the air

Only for a time on a season

Then it will fade and wither

On the ground in the park

People will walk over it

Some will ignore and forget

There is nothing much to remember

On the ground breathing its last breath

The leaves soft and tender and crunchy and dry

The breezes will take the leaves away thrashing them

The flowers will be broken to pieces crying in the wind

What will remain of the cherry tree?

The season has gone another time perhaps

Of a political life burying in the votes

Of a party people dislike it many times over