The Almond Tree Blossom

You tasted spring’s young almonds green; sweeter than vestal nectarine then all your innocence is lost; forever to the wind is tossed. The seed you planted long ago; time will see it ripen and grow; as the summer sun slow unfolds, the carapace no longer holds Fall harvest fruit is eager reaped; upon a bride and groom are heaped; Young virgins take them to their bed to dream, foretell, of whom they wed. When the end is near, as foretold and the winter’s dark, bitter cold makes the future labored to see each year blossoms the almond tree.