Tomato ChaseA Poem by Bill MacEachernNostalgia
TOMATO CHASE
Now.... Out of season They're reddish Uniform in size & shape Firm And flavorless In season They're RED All sizes and shapes Firm, soft, some just right And flavorful Yesteryears They were magic Like the transformation of a caterpiller The little yellow flower Gives way to the tiny green marble Stalk n stems grow bigger Marbles grow larger The green fuzzy rough stems The scent That wonderful smell So unique to the tomato plant They turn green to red Some even get incubated on a sunny sill When it's time Knife reveals seeds and red splotched juice And the TASTE A taste that fades with our age That TASTE that we chase every summer Close But never a ringer © 2019 Bill MacEachern |
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