The Guava Tree
Remember the juicy fruit of the sweet guava tree
in the orchard of the family farm
now long gone,
grooves on the trunk that shoe our tiny bare feet,
solid branches cast slim shadows on the lawn;
Satin flesh crush between greedy little teeth,
pink-stained tee shirts bare big bloated tummies,
fanning cool Saturday siestas beneath the canopy
til flying foxes start to pester for scheduled feed.
Never disappointing,
that handsome guava tree;
muscular frame scaffolds the weak wailing widow,
thin paper barks soak salty rivulets from cheeks
after husband’s plane crashes soon after take off.
Bulldozers then crush the crumbling house’s pillars,
concrete cancer cells metastasis to fallowed soil,
trunk-load of photographs lost in a dark moldy cellar
where felled timber trunks march to their fiery toll.
Tears gush through the sluice for the poor guava tree,
whose thick flowering thickets
once cradled a child
dreaming of heels pressing on cracked copper skin
as drunken father’s rusty belt buckle beats him wild.
Thousands of miles from where the tree once stood,
I say a prayer to clouds hiding the sun’s golden glow,
young guava tree takes root of fertile ground
for good,
sky’s pregnant precipitation fills the dam to overflow.
MsColethaAlbert – I think this is more of a super short story than a poem. This is more of an anecdote than a poem. I do enjoy the devices of nostalgia, and imagery utilized in the piece. Alliteration is used throughout which is very impressive. Well Done!
Nicely penned!
Stay Focused Enjoy Decency
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