I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. ~Willa Cather, American writer

How do you like my pretty dress?

It’s red, as you can plainly see.

In it, I become a princess.

No crown, no robe, no throne for me.

Too soon my leaves are going to flee

And all my branches will be bare.

So share my joy with utter glee

And when I’m nude, try not to stare!

Note: Poetry form is Huitain.