a poem
the seed was sown
years ago in a
hungry earth wanting
for more.
it swallowed the seed
and I forgot the
memory of it
like a cool breeze passing
by for a second
before disappearing like
a wisp without a tail.
it’s been many years now,
maybe 5, or maybe 6,
I don’t recollect, but
I stumbled upon the
seed again, and it
was no longer a seed.
it’s arms branched ever
higher, reaching for a light
it knew it could not reach
yet yearned for,
and the leaves filled its
body like the hair on a
giant from the stories of
old lore.
in the sunlight, it stood
bright, tall, and under the
cheshire moon, it drooped
ever so slightly, swaying
ever so gently to the
star’s song.
the seed has grown tall,
much like this poem,
ever reaching, a poem
I’d forgotten I’d sown
so many years ago,
has bloomed, burst out
as the tree form the earth,
the ink from a pen,
the sudden outburst of a baby
being brought into this world,
struggling, kicking, crying,
but alive.
but I worry about it.
the tree stands crooked,
upright and tall, and
in my worry, I do nothing,
but look at it,
tracing the years on its
bark, the time it took
to come alive.
I worry, if a half poet
like me should ever,
could ever, have sown
such a seed.
