A faery story

The cherry grew
it was bound to suit
From one small stone
It produced a root
A branch a bough
And blossom too
That filled our garden
With scent which drew
A frog then seen
To leap below
Telling his story
As he did go
Of the Maine coon cat
Who came to call
Having left the Princess
Where for all

A child at heart
Wrote prose they say
And played upon a lute
Away
With the faeries
Her mother did exclaim
And suffer none
And never blame

The blossoms scent
Was more than sweet
A delicate pink beneath
Our feet
The cherries ripe
Were crimson they
Were big and shiny
More so each day