Ive been thinking--
Many moons--
About these and those
Fruits of our labor.

These are those
Planted and raised
Inside--
Growing deliberately
Without the spread of word.

Those are that
Which has been said--
Ripened in haste,
Gone to waste,
Before I could gather the thoughts.

Time has come--
August moon--
The souls of thought
Brought to harvest.

Feast your eyes--
Eat my words--
Yet to come has come.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...