By Zana Nassah
Green peas they simmer, at the pan’s base,
Jumping about but unable to climb,
Struggling to find the surface embrace,
Yet to reach the top they need only time.
Stress like they do, they seem to remain
At the bottom with no hope in sight,
Tethered to ground by invisible chains,
Perpetually trapped, try as they might.
Yet out of the blue, green starts to rise,
Swirling and twirling, they’re frozen no more,
Patiently they claim their rightful prize,
Predestined for them since they left the store.
It’s easy to think my peas were idle in their climb,
But being busy about they were done by lunch-time.