THE FARMER AND THE TENDER SHOOT
There was a young, tender shoot
In a garden growin’
Alongside were thistles and thorns
And a few roses loamin’
The thistles and thorns, they weren’t so bad,
Just uncomely, prickly, frightful.
The roses weren’t all sweetness either,
But smelled lovely and delightful.
One day the farmer strode right through
The middle of the garden.
Unwittingly his large leather boot
Crushed down the young tender shoot,
Though he looked back and forcefully winced
At the damage he had done,
Tried with all his might to lift the shoot,
T’was bruised and all his help was none.
He cried, that sturdy farmer,
For his brutal boot had killed
The only thing his heart had loved,
That he’d raised and fed, and tilled.
He had a few seeds stored away
In a brown pouch held closed with heart strings.
He broke the seal, spread them near the shoot
With the fear and care that love brings.
The seasons passed, the farmer aged,
The shoot began to grow,
Nourished by the seeds of love,
It strengthened with pride, did glow
And proudly watched the shoot
Leaf into a velvet orchid
In spite of his grimy boot.
Through the years they spent hours
Beneath the same golden sun
They grew to love each other dear
Yet each saw the sun in different light,
Understood that clear, with deep delight
Each could live under the same sight
And still love each separate, yet ever one.
jon jacobs 2013
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