Sense

Sense




You’ve looked but have you ever seen?

Precious, purple petals.
Smooth and sheer in texture.
There are nine of them,
reliant on the existence
of the short stocky stem that lies beneath;
with roots, deep within the moistened soil,
surrounded by debris
of maroon mulch chips,
And planted by the hands
of the glum old gardener
that yearned
for just a little color.

When you looked, is that what you saw?

The tree
that you swing and climb on
in the park

You’ve touched, but have you ever felt?

Aside from holding your weight
it also holds
the coarse indentations
of the initials
Once cleverly carved
underneath the largest branch
by the couple
that yearned
for eternity.

The singing of the birds

You’ve listened, but have you ever heard?

Beneath the cheerful chirping
Lies communication,
and sincerity
from one to another.

The ripened, red berries
that you stole
from the bush

You ate, but did you taste?

The sweet, sour, savory tang,
flavored
with glints of
The bush
where they grew;
And the slight taste of soil
That lies within.