Sun beats down hard
on me as I walk down
down, down into the town.
Orchards and vineyards line both sides
of this highway,
Queen Anne's lace growing proud
but every now and then bending low by a sudden
breeze.
The wind brings a shock of relief
to my burning shoulders.
Rumour has it they grow peaches here,
and that the twisting ancient apple trees
are that of legend.
I stuff the urge to pick one,
but they arent ready yet
so I stop myself.
I bend down and gently pick the Queen Annes lace
instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment