JUANITA GARCIA VERA

JUANITA GARCIA VERA

THE SEED THAT BECAME A GARDEN

Love is a seed

Dispersed in the gale

That falls on vacant fields

Filling landscapes

With spectacular colors,

Textures and scents

It colors the world

With hope and happiness

Love lives on long after

We have moved on

Its scent lingers

In our sense

Of touch,

Smell and taste

It lives on

In memories shared

Love is like

The scent of the rose

Soft, unforgettable,

Stunningly fragrant

But unlike the flower

That withers and dies

Its essence and scent

Remains in our heart

It is a seed

That grows

And spreads coloring

And scenting

Our view of the world

Mother, your seeds grew

The most beautiful gardens

©Juanita Garcia Vera

All Rights Reserved 13-06-2005

Revised 10/ 05/2017

Photograph Pink Hibiscus

SUMMER DREAMS

Excitedly, we ran

Into the Watermelon Field

Our eyes bulging

With excitement

To taste the sweetest

Of Summer’s fruit

A childhood memory

Peeks its face

Through layers of time

And space

We lived to savor

The ripest of melons

Thumping, testing

Tasting all its sweetness

We sat in the open field

Making a circle

While we ate, laughed

Recited stories and dreamed

Dreamed  of all the pink

And cool green around us

Like icicles that kept us cool

On the hottest days of Summer

Watermelons, watermelons

All around

I dreamed of Watermelon Fields

That extended on and on

Beyond my wildest dreams

Beyond the years

Beyond my expectations

Gone is the innocence of yesteryear

Still, it lingers in the memory

Of those long hot summer days

We ate, laughed and dreamed

Of unbelievable things

Watermelon

It’s taste and scent imprinted

In my mind

Frozen in time

Thawing out

At my command

A picture most vivid

The hot air steaming

wiggly waves

In the clear horizon

A sight unforgettable

My memories like blood

Flowing through my veins

Bringing thoughts

Most beautiful

Every now and again

I have dreams

Of Watermelon Fields

Unlike a dream

I feel the steamy heat

Smell the delicious scent

Hear the incessant chatter

Of children at play

Growing dreams

Happiness that grows

In the fields of my memory

Where its vines hold me

Captive in time

©Juanita Garcia Vera

All Rights Reserved JGV 2013

Photograph Windmill...Juanita Garcia Vera

TODAY IS TOMORROW’S YESTERDAY

When I was four years old

I wanted to be six years old

So I could go to school

I’d spend the day

Tracing letters

I’d trace over and over

On paper sacks and dirt

I didn’t know

What the letters meant

But I knew

They were important

When I was ten

I wanted to be thirteen

So I could be a teenager

And go to junior high school

Then I was fourteen

And wanted to be eighteen

So I could be grown

Finally, came the day

I was twenty-one

How happy I was to reach

That milestone

The years flew by, so fast

Today, I thought once more

Of the child of four and six

The one that was carried on Papa’s arms

The one that was tucked in bed by Mama

The child that had non a care,

But to play and dream

About tomorrow

Tomorrow is here

And I remember

And dream of yesterday

Of the years I was Four, Six,

Thirteen, Eighteen and Twenty- One

In memories time stands still

I remember

The times I’d spin in circles

While I danced in the rain

I’d   fall down

While laughing so hard that

I cried and my tears became rain

I remember making mud pies

And I dream of playing tag

As I run in fields of whitest cotton

Chasing time always

But time is so elusive

That it leaves us behind

Back to those innocent,

Sad, painful and beautiful times

I am here

Now this day,

This hour

This minute,

And it’s gone

Like sunshine

On a rainy day

Tomorrow

Is hope, sunshine

And time

To dream, to share

Today I live like there’s

No tomorrow

Because tomorrow

Is not  a promise

 ©Juanita Garcia Vera

January 1, 2015

JUANITA GARCIA VERA