For most of us workers
Payday comes every two weeks
The emerald grass
Takes time to grow
And loyal landscapers
Are going from lawn to lawn
To fruit tree
-- To cut them down to size
Or trim them back
So they can produce
Even more fruit --
The careful accountant is crunching
More and more numbers
The avid artist applying
Layers of paint
They know
It takes movement
To create a still life
Hours of effort
To finally relax
With a glass of wine
And a bowl of plums
The color of bruises
Comments
thanks MarkL! i'm glad it
thanks MarkL! i'm glad it resonated with a former landscaper. bruises from work in the restaurant business are more emotional than physical, for me. that's probably my favorite line from the poem, too, about the still life. so glad you liked it. thanks for the read and the comments.
Hi Greg
good reflection while sipping on a glass of wine and eating from a bowl of plums...great choice of words with an excellent climax. The title of course connects so very well with the essence of your poem. Would "True Colors of Bruises" be a good reflection?
just a thought...would "pluck the fruits" be a good alternative to "to fruit tree"
thanks raj! true colors of
thanks raj! true colors of bruises seems a little redundant to me, since colors don't usually lie. thanks for the idea, though! i'm glad you enjoyed the poem and thanks for your comments, as always!
Hi Greg
Your response makes sense. It was just a suggestion
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so glad for your suggestion,
so glad for your suggestion, raj. appreciate it.