Seeds Poem by Paul Reed

The tomato plants are all tidied away

Just hollow circles in the border bedding

Where they used to stand,

Onions are dried and stored

A summertime of growing done,

They lie asleep in their trays

Away from the sun;



Geraniums, their glory spent

Removed from lofty perches

Where the baskets hung

Like fireballs across the sky

Now in the shadows,

Dreaming of the light,

Out of mind

Out of sight;



The sea is wide

Toward the next spring

Hard to ride the waves

Hard to cross over in the storm

Hard to reach out and touch,

And, from the depths of my soul,

Wanted so much;



The daisies have gone to sleep

No more little jewels in the grass

The silvery songs all sung by the robins

Only the cackling of the crow

In the hushed treetops

That held hope so long ago;



The seeds in their packets

Protected and wrapped

Kept in dark drawers

Time-bombs of future glories,

Dry and unexpended

The tellers of tomorrow's stories.