Ripe mulberry's, intoxicating and juicy giggly fresh.
Crimson cherries, hanging heavy along it's boughs.
Sun rising in the east, casting shortened golden shadows.
Silver sunbeams shining, onto ripened mulberry fruits.
Hornets noisily gather round, for mulberry stimulants.
Warm little breezes merry dancing, to church bell chimes.
Clouds move as shadows, eerily haunting a churchyard.
A gorgeous butterfly, joyous on that wandering journey.
Loving words whispered, beneath an old mulberry tree.
Robin redbreast amongst the branches, sits and sings.
Pleasure to listening ears, as hot lips passionately meet.
A roses lingering sweet bouquet, delighting nostril buds.
Squirrel and his friends, are all happily playing your it.
A Dewey spider, steadily weaves that magic spun web.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.