Sunday, 12 January 2014



I can smell the sweet potato peel
Upon my skin – and I visualise walking
Amongst the summer rows.

I pick over the box of earthy potatoes
When I pull one that is perfect
I turn it in my hand like a gold nugget
Buried in my memory - a charm.

I peel back happiness from the soil,
Memories drop into a watery bowl;
The day we planted them – sowing
Love which had lain on the edges.

Uncertain, I nearly threw love out
With un-seeded tubers; to decay in hedges.
Instead I wrapped them and stored them 
In a cold shed - for spring planting.

I can already see your face shining pride
At flowering drills; you stand with a wide-stance;
The posture of the accomplished soul - your eyes,
Stare lovingly at each planted offering.

I wrote this a couple of years ago; inspired while peeling potaoes - fresh from the soil. The  simple jobs are always the best!

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