oh pear-apple tree,
blessed be the fruit that
weighs down your boughs
to kiss the ground.
my eyes beheld a wondrous thing
when time caressed spring blooms
and slow-step danced center stage
into evenings drowsy with sun and light.
gunshots hang in mid-air, seemingly pause
to take in the zenith of your existence:
fruit that is borne and exists to nourish and
i cannot help but stand guard, overprotective
of your limbs and existence.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment