Poetry

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Tucked securely away in the pocket
Of an old flannel shirt
Awash with the past from my
grandfathers years
Entombed in a makeshift time capsule
I found a Seed

I pondered the life of that seed
How it had been picked fresh
From a now forgotten gleaning
Somehow missing its turn to plant
Creation still hibernating within

Time had not altered the seed in anyway
Only the smells and memories that now danced across my senses
As I held his old shirt and reminisced of a younger man

Although it had never drank of the sun
The seed had harvested the joy and tears of days gone by
So I gently placed this precious seed
Back from where it had come
Knowing that the fruit it had produced
Could never be undone

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