Ronda Larkin is a common mom with uncommon poetic perspectives.
Long ago, we planted, some fruit trees in the yard.
Cherry, pear, and apple;
We bought them small, it wasn't hard.
First, the flowers bloomed; Displaying quite a show.
Then, anxiously we waited,
As the fruit began to grow.
Just before the fruit, had ripened on the tree:
It began to leave our yard;
Picked by others, we did see.
Birds ate the cherries, the apples left with deer:
Squirrels took it piece by piece;
We watched it disappear.