When Pears are Ripe

Jerry Reynolds

 

In a honey-suckle covered yard
The summer of forty-eight
She taught him how to pluck pears.

This lonely, southern, lady
Living in an apartment above a store,
That bore her name.

He peeled her pears as instructed
Held in an aroma you could touch
She served them tea in her best china.

On the red-dirt road of his mind
He visits her sun-drenched kitchen
Sip’s tea and shares perfectly ripened pears.

  • Author: Jerry Reynolds (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 14th, 2021 09:32
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 42
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Comments6

  • dusk arising

    I miss the spring and summer days when it was every young man's delight to follow pear shaped desires freshley squeezed into tight blue jeans or miniskirts along a pathway of desires.

    I can well imagine the perfectly ripened pears of your words today exposed in her sun drenched kitchen. Such a warmth of joy it has brought to this cool overcast May day in the heart of England.

    • Jerry Reynolds

      Those were the days, thanks, Dusk.

    • orchidee

      Good write Jerry.

    • Goldfinch60

      Good words Jerry. I too like pears.

      Andy

    • Violet bluebell( used to be yellow rose)

      Lovely writing 🙂

    • Big T

      Very nice J.R.. And the image above fits very nicely with the red-dirt road of his mind. Nice job.

    • Neville


      this is without any doubt, my most favouwritest Jerry Reynolds poem to date ..
      .............. filled to overflowing with vivid imagery and memorable moments ......................

      ... Neville

      • Jerry Reynolds

        Thanks, Neville I was taught well.



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