A time machine of nostalgia
Gripping tightly to my thoughts
Tastebuds awakening
With long-forgotten flavor
—
Unappreciated by many
Its uniqueness shines
Through summer days
At grandma’s house
—
Freshness and crunch
Deliciousness embodied
Nothing quite compares
To this crimson beauty
—
A garden offering
Straight from the soil
Though celery’s lookalike
Of little relation
—
Crispy, tangy goodness
Wrapped in a coral hue
But don’t eat the leaves
Whatever you do
—
Pairing perfectly with
Its satisfying companion
Ivory crystals hugging
This sleek, rosy stalk
—
The moment arrives
For this delectable treat
Bright red rhubarb with sugar
Tart, luscious, simple, and sweet!
About the Creator
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More stories from Elizabeth Petit and writers in Poets and other communities.
Mama’s Boy
I’ve been a fiancé for four years and three months. We’ve been together for six and a half years total, and we have a two-month-old son together. I can’t help but think that we’ll never get married. We haven’t even decided on a wedding date. When I bring it up, he tries to escape the room as if he’s late for something more important.
By Real Poetic7 days ago in Chapters
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