To This Day

A Stranger did come, one day long ago
And on my front door did she knock.
Little more than her name do I know.

But of me, so much more was asked.

And yet then as today all I have are the rake
And the plow with which I attempted to sow
Seeds of friendship; of love.

And hard indeed the work was.

Tending, Nurturing, Caring; the actions of my invitation.
Though rains of good will refused to flow,
I plowed on, with intrepid dedication.

To this day, the seeds have not grown,

Iridescent, blooming, flowers I hoped to see
However, the fruits of my labor have instead
Consumed a part of me.

A singular hope, and a stranger that still is.

For the fields of my heart lie fallow,
In wait. That some may take
Longer than others to bloom.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Poetry Reader said...
Apr. 5, 2012 at 5:22 pm
Good imagery and great mood setting.
 
ajm33 said...
Mar. 29, 2012 at 7:24 pm
So Beautiful...
 
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