Peach Tree Awakened by the rising sun, Its rays across my pillow run. Piercing darkness with its beams, Quiets the whispers of my dreams. Guessed eight years old? Then you�d be right. My legs grew like an inch, last night. I scan the windows, out one I see The very top of our peach tree. My bare feet hit the wooden floor. Over toys, ouch! One more. Looking out upon our tree, Those peaches sure look ripe to me! I find my pants, shirt, socks and shoes. Making haste, no time to loose. The shirt I picked, oops, stained with tea. I wonder If mom will see? Down the creaky stairs I go, Past mom and dad�s room....tiptoe. Around the corner, on squeaky floor, The knob is turned and I'm out the door! Standing on the porch I try To see which one will catch my eye. On a lower branch, well, could be. I�ll have to get up close to see. The grass is full of morning dew. I slip and almost lose a shoe. Below the branch I stretch to reach To pick this perfect looking peach. Just too far, beyond my hand, I look for something on which to stand. The milk-box on the porch I�ll get To see if I can�t reach it yet. Careful, balancing as I do, Stepping one foot up, ...then two. I stand tall then reach again, To my surprise, a peach in hand! Upon the ground I jump, then run With my prize, of which I�ve won, To the porch, then sit and eat This perfect summer morning treat. Douglas Fletcher 6/3/2001 |
 |
 |
 |