My Peach Tree

I look at my peach tree in my backyard

I pass all the signs on the Balfour Blvd, “Peaches,” “Pick Yourself!,” “Towns Best!” and come home
to greet my one and only old peach tree
It is old, wrinkled, and has many broken branches
Still it has big, juicy, beautiful peaches
I climb up on a ladder and carefully touch them
as if I touch a new born baby, carefully and slowly one by one
When they come into my bosom
I come down the ladder with them
I thank to my old peach tree who stands still there
Who knows? She may have many aches and hurts that I do not know
But she did it again this year. She produced these new yellowish young round fist-size life
I appreciate the life producing old peach tree
I do not care for the form and the look
She has been with me there long time together
And I love her more than the pretty, juicy, new peaches!
I love the old rugged branches of her. I love her.

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