By: Olivia Fang
The lonely bud sits atop a cherry tree,
Watching as the others twirl with such ease.
It dreams of the day it can finally be free,
The day that it too will blossom in the breeze.
It feels as though it has been left behind,
An abandoned little bud, the last of its kind.
Yet there they all were, each waiting for their turn,
Thinking that they knew all there was to learn.
But they would discover that they were wrong,
A journey that would no doubt be long.
However, as of right now,
The little buds sit and pout,
Wondering why they weren’t the ones flying about.