jeanne harmon


A pond


Long since pebbles have touched the water’s surface
Creating ripples as it hits the water
Three friends of old once came here
But will never come back it fears
Untreaden grass dies now in sorrow
The pond hopes that they shall come on the morrow
Ever so patiently it has waited
Old trees surrounding it are outdated
Still it seems to wait true to its purpose
As not the friends who once visited it long ago
The cat tails are drooping and stooping
It gets weary by the second
Still again it stays waiting
Never envying, Never hating

Submitted: Sunday, February 26, 2006

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