Poems ✍️

This morning, as I cut into
the tough flesh of the huge tomato
with its brown, half-healed scar
like an old sabre wound from some great battle,

the thought came, if you can call
a vegetable, heroic, and why not,
then this old bruiser is a hero…

its red proud chest so stalwart set,
saying, I saw the season through..
come rain, come shine, come wind
and foul weather - what’s going on these days? –

I saw it all – and more than that –
I grew it – my way… and if they said,
as mortals do –
as if they knew a tom that’s true –
you’re not for us – I’ll say to you –
I saw two thousand seven through -
I lived it – my way…