The Cherry Stone


I held in my hand a cherry stone
And dreamed of a tree that would bear me fruit
I planted it deep within the earth
And with sun and with rain it began to shoot

With tender stem it stretched up tall
And seemed to survive every wind and gale
Though bowed at times it soon sprang back
Belying the strength of that reed so frail

Spring bud and leaf followed winter’s chill
And added to height came a thickening girth
With browning bark came a steely resolve
And a surer grip spreading deep in the earth

As seasons passed and its shape emerged
New beauty and splendour were plain to see
Its sight gave no hint of the cherry stone
As it grew and bloomed to maturity

And now it stands as a message proud
With each year of its growth held within its bark
Being everything it was designed to be
When it first was concealed in that stone so dark

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carolplunkett

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I can't remember when I didn't write poems but as I've got older, I find they spill into my head, often at inconvenient times of the morning! I use to write them on my way to work, hence the title of my blog, but now I've given up to go trekking around in a campervan with my husband. Plenty of time to reflect on the world, though I don't claim to understand it any better....
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