Standing in the back yard of my typewriter
Rooted in the mercenary lavish
Of symbiosis for the equity of propagation
A peach tree grows a desirous fruit
Wrapped in the aspire of future yield
Like the penitent prayer of an old poet
Steeped in the selfish pursuits of philanthropic proclaim
For even the most generous heart
has an indulgent spirit
Its quarry, may be a smile
on the victim of a familiar wound;
or a freshly planted peach pit
bathed in the promise
of a many a harvest yet to come
but one thing is for certain
benevolent is not the peach tree
nor the author of soothes compose
though they may smile
at the trickles of nectar
dripping down freshly nourished cheeks
it is they, that get renewed
© 2021 Robert Trakofler
A poem, a picture, or a peach tree are nothing without a witness and for yours, I am always grateful thank you
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