The acorn planted so many years ago
now the tall, strong oak, backbone of my garden,
cloaking all from summer's harsh sun
as cooling breezes waft through her leaves.
Rays of sunlight filter through
dancing on faces of crocus and daisy
red roses bloom amidst iceberg purity
while the scent of rosemary and thyme float on the air.
Fruit trees all heavily laden, ready to harvest
crisp, crunchy apples, sweet and juicy,
plums with soft flesh, tangy and mellow
while the rich red of my mouth tells the tale of empty strawberry patch.
Ripened tomatoes hang heavy on the vine
with lettuces are ready for light summer salads,
corn cob plants gleam in buttery hue
while firm, snappy beans are perfect for plucking.
Beneath my old oak hangs a swing made with rope
where many generations have soared high in delight,
I sit reminiscing and hearing sounds of the past
as all aromas combine, my old oak the defender.
In a list
A contest entry
- Grow me a rose... by And Hyetal.
550 points, ended January 19, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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"while the rich red of my mouth tells the tale of empty strawberry patch"
What a tasty garden! And I love the description of the oak tree with the swing. Wonderful imagery.
Thank you for entering!
Always,
Cassie
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Wow, I do love this piece, it creates so many tantalizing images in my head of the luscious images you provided, pure beauty hun
Karen
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this is beautifully written with imagery. i can close my eyes and still picture the amazing picture painted in this. well done
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