Lemon Tree

I can taste the years
            transcribed as fruit
          bites of indulgence
      bursting with what was.

I chew on them in restless moments
              squeezing out every ounce
        yet still
    those faded flavors
taste ever sweeter.

What will today taste like
              once devoured
                        digested
            sewn in my mind
        to sprout, bud and flower?

Have I nourished this fruit to flourish… or sour?

Today

This is not the day tomorrow will surely be
there is too much stress, anxiety, even guilt

over all the greatness yesterday should have been
had not the days before that been so difficult.

If I could, I would reject the bed, lift my head
march out the prison I’ve resigned so long to stay.

I’d eat as if there was an adventure waiting
prepare myself for anything that comes my way.

Should there be no courage in the day to challenge
I would fashion some reverence from the stale stone slate.

Days do not wait for good to happen upon them
we must carve it out and try to shape something great,

but this is not the day that tomorrow will be
already today has gotten the best of me.