A prose/poem extracted from a
short story I wrote for my writer's group.
Submitted to Poets United
Exploring their newly purchased property, Nathan and Alice came across a cave, and inside was a weathered trunk. Thinking perhaps it contained treasures untold, they carefully opened the creaking lid. Inside, they found a yellowed envelope which contained the following poem:
Fiddle de dum, fiddle de dee
There’s a secret to be told
To those who venture here
In search of a pot of gold.
In my lifetime there’s a lesson I’ve learned
Riches aren’t found in money
But in the wildflower meadow
Where the bees collect their honey
In the whispered breezes
Where the old elms stand
All this wealth is yours to hold
On this single piece of land.
Down the hill to the little creek
And the sound of its gurgling tones
As it flows ever so gently
Over time-scarred and weathered stones.
In the distant sight of birds on the wing
And the sound of their warbling trill
As they stop for lunch in the tangle
Of blackberry vines just down the hill
Savor the colors that are yours to see
Grass so green, and sky so blue
These riches are yours, my friends
More than you ever knew.
So put this back in the weathered trunk
And close the lid on my rhyme
More treasure seekers will visit here
In yet another time.
Slowly, Nathan and Alice returned the envelope to the trunk, closed the lid, and left the cave. They walked back to the house in silence, through the wildflower meadow and the stand of elms, past the gurgling little creek and the tangle of blackberry vines, each with a new appreciation for the riches that surrounded them, more than they ever knew.