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Poetry

Patches of Hope

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The apple swinging gayly over the tilled, weeping soil peaked down at the root vegetables hiding below the muds surface and smirked,
“Hey, look at me, glance at this magnificent tree,
See how the leaves flow and my skin does shine and glow,
Wouldn’t you like to join me? Wouldn’t you like to know,
How I’ve found my place in this world and use it to grow? “

And the carrot anchored in, swearing it’s roots were all that mattered,
That the green sprouts were stuck in idle ambition and lust for the light it’d never reach,
The trees are closer yet still bend sadly in the breeze away from the true desire, Roots stopping the branches from becoming the sail that takes the ship out of port and away from home, from where it needs to be,
And against its will, or for its own secret desire, a look to the tree,

“There you are friend but what’s with the doubt?
Why tell yourself you can’t have what you can’t be without?
Do you think I made it up here on my own?
Do you think 15 foot in the sky is where I was sown?
Look to others my pretty orange friend,
Don’t be afraid of these branches which bend,
Be strong, be weak, be true and be you,
Live the colour you are and not these shades of blue”

A struggle and a pulse,
A bend and a brace,
From out of the mulch,
Came dear carrot’s face,

“Apple, I’m scared, what’s with this breeze,
Was your bargaining nothing more than a shameful tease,
To see me try and fall back down,
To my comfortable little hole in my familiar ground”

“Oh dear carrot, do you not see?
You’re one branch closer to your freedom tree,
You’ve pushed yourself up, and look how you’ve changed,
Your friends down there don’t know how to be arranged,
Grids and rows are not for your free spirit,
Nor for this field and everyone in it”

A rumble and a groan,
A shudder, a shake, a moan,
As out popped the carrots, the turnips, the potatoes,
Who looked up to the sky and sighed “we’ll brave this climb to where nobody knows”