Outside the City
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Constance La France.
Outside the city where the pomegranates grew,
Still the broken down farm of my grandfather dwells.
I recall the bright red against a sky of blue,
And from that farm kitchen drifted delicious smells.
Oh the sweetness of that bush when the wind blew,
People asked grandma how- but she never tells.
Stories of her sweet red fruit pie we all knew,
To a visitor, help yourself grandpa would yell.
Grandma was famous for her red jam too,
Ruby red jars were stored on wood shelves.
I recall the twinkle in grandma's eyes of blue,
Often, I take a drive to that farm that still dwells;
Outside the city where the pomegranates grew.
_________________________
April 29, 2016
Poetry/Lyric/Outside The City
Copyright Protected, ID 16-783-867-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment