Poet-tree

 

A lemon tree grows lemons,

And from lime trees we get limes,

It makes sense that in  poet-trees

We produce our rhymes.

 

They say it’s out of fashion,

And has been so for a while,

But I’m late to the table,

So old fashioned is my style.

 

My rhyming may be simple,

And some would say it’s immature,

No doubt they know better than I,

So to them I must demure.

 

But I write for the joy,

And the pleasure in each line,

My writing keeps me entertained,

And for me that’s just fine.

 

Poems need not be deep nor witty,

Nor need they speak of love,

But some words need each other,

Like a hand might need a glove.

 

And that’s the duty of a poet,

To pluck them from the air,

And place them all together,

And then turn them loose to share.

 

So neath the shade of  poet-tree,

Is where I like best to sit.

I’m sure my crop is growing well,

It just hasn’t ripened yet.