Pecans


I guess we can still read about it in fairy tales or in a poem;
that is,
if people aren't too afraid to still write about it/

Or,
we can visualize, fantasize and even have dreams about it;
that is,
if we can still "FIND" it in our dreams/

But one thing "IS" for sure though,
"LOVE doesn't grow on trees anymore"/

Not like in the good ol' days when all we had to do was wait for the right moment,
and that was usally during the Fall when Pecans were at their stage of perfection/

And it was at that time we carefully pulled ourselves up,
stretching,
bending,
then reaching through the thickets of leaves and branches with the highest hopes of retrieving some of those that had gone untouched because of the difficulties to obtain them/

Yes sir'ree,
those were the ones "WE'D" wanted;
those at the very top or located in some of the hardest to reach places/

We hadn't realized it back then;
our ignorances and immaturities carrying "MOST" of the blame (but I can only speak for myself), the majority of the time being mesmerised and in awe from the beauty of how the sun cast a certain radiance upon the surface of their shine, and after several failed attempts to capture what my heart truly admired and desired most,
I finally came to realize that,
all along,
those that had been just right and ready for the picking,
were those that had all fallen to the ground/

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Just a simple love poem.