In the summer of forty-nine
She taught him to pluck pears.
In a yard, honeysuckle-covered
There were two large trees.
Her house had burned down years before.
A lonely, well-preserved lady
Living out her years—above a store,
Her late husband’s name it bore.
Plucking her pears as tutored.
She served them tea in fine china.
Proudly picking the best pieces suited.
Though nothing matched anymore.
They sat in her sun-drenched kitchen
Sipping tea and eating squares
Of perfectly ripened pears.
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Author:
Jerry Reynolds (
Offline) - Published: March 9th, 2026 09:16
- Category: Friendship
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments2
Nicely written.
Sad and joyful at the same time this poem gives an open aired view of life at its best and worst.
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