Peach
I am a watermelon
with no meter or rind.
Counting syllables
like one, two, three...
Some beats make me sweet.
Some rhythms make me salty.
Four, three, two...
Some poets prefer
a non-rhyming peach
whose lines taste better than mine.
One, two, three…
Please don’t cry.
Four, three, two…
I’m still here
and I hope you’re
doing just fine.
A real Peach
never says goodbye.
Berteena
Harmony of the Soul
13 February, 2019
Copyright © Berteena Harmony Of The Soul | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment