Fruition


My
emptiness
like pumpkin carved, a hollow gourd.
The potential of fruition lost-
plucked prematurely from the vine,
you leave me stranded, hopeless
rotting on the ground.

Wait,
the secret now unfolds,
this decomposition yields new life untold,
a misthought- I needed you to grow...
yet my seed in richer soil will sprout
free from vine, free from doubt.

Copyright © 2004, J. Doncaster