Green Are, Poem and Photography from my Garden
Green are the leaves that grow between birds
Outside my window, playing hide and seek with the sky.
And green are the last of my vineyard’s hopes too,
Among rusty leaves, the last of a summer of grapes.
Green are my thoughts, the ones you see through my eyes –
Is my soul green? I surely hope it still is.
And green are the thoughts I keep in my heart,
For they are not ripe-green yet.
For green is good, I think,
As long as aplenty green things there are.
The singular green frightens me, envious and cold,
Therefore green is good in a bunch.
For green were the seas of my childhood tales
Of maidens who could and princes who dared, a tad.
And green were my teen years,
When I thought I could do it all, like them.
Green are the spines on my bookshelves now,
And a magic green pencil lays on my desk
For the times inspiration fails me,
I pick it and its energy handwrites me new tales.
Green are my hopes that end one more decade,
And I think that’s pretty cool too.
For green speaks of more springs to come,
Of harvests of hopes, and a future in green.
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