Chill Winds of November
for the last pepper
Once carefully tended
Thriving
on sparkled-sun kisses
Drinking
love from gray-black skies
Flourishing
under careful caresses
and softly babbled nothings
Once growing full and healthy
with ripening beauty
and long-held promises
of full-life potential
Now reduced to nothing
Just a red, shriveled heart
imposed on barren earth
Growth of love long past
still it holds on
To something long dead
1 comment:
I absolutely love this poem. I first I didn't realize the initial object you were describing, which made the poem that much more introspective. Wow. Then I saw the thing you were describing and re-read it. Double wow. And then I thought about the parable of the fruit left on the dead vine entering winter in regards to my own life and was blown away. Very nice!
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