Outside the City
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.
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