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Sweet Pea
 


Dear Mum...
I will remember you with sweet peas.
On March the fourth each year, you'd soak the seeds,
prepared your garden beds with chook manure
after clearing rich red earth of onion weeds.

And then, on Paddy's Day at morning's welcome,
you'd sow the sprouting seeds into the soil,
measuring (with your eye) exact two inches
and then began the water torture toil.

The place we lived would not sustain a garden,
so bathwater was bucketed each day.
A dozen of us shared each tub of liquid,
making water we decanted scummy grey.

Through winter you encouraged tiny tendrils
to curl just where you wanted them to be;
then Spring, just when crocuses were budding,
you'd welcome your first flowers, full of glee.

You always filled our home with fragrant blossoms,
their rainbow colours softened times unkind.
I gladly left, shook red-dust from my sandals,
unloosed the hold and cut the ties that bind.

A college break, returning home to find
a sweet pea mauve, you'd painted outer walls.
And then, in haste, you sold the big old house;
I travel back when sweet pea bloom time calls.

Yes, Mum. I will remember you in Spring,
floral fragrance in the air, pee-wee on wing.


A Letter Poem.




Tuning Up: I Will Remember You



By cherryk

© 2017 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Tuning Up (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Tuning Up (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Tuning Up (challenge has been closed)


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