Pomelo

Thu, 05/02/2019 - 19:34 -- ngopes

It was a little past midnight,

the raindrops continued
to tap on my roof made from blue Zinc sheet.

I looked outside, the

rain beads on the window pane splash and fall.
A pale shimmer of moonlight
cast a faint glow upon the fields
a flush of weeds had begun to turn green
It was Spring again.

I tiptoed from my room downstairs towards
the wall of stones near my house. 

I jumped down from the wall in to my neighbor’s yard.
The ripe Pomelos hung from its branches. 
I twisted it off the branch and threw a few 
over to the other side of the wall.
This afternoon, I lie on my backyard and
my mouth waters as I remember 
The Pomelo that I had last eaten
in the warm afternoon Sun.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741