Orchard love

Patchwork light streams between limbs
the orchard trees weighty with fruit
bow in submission, touch the ground
that is when I first laid eyes on you
as you reached for the bunch that grew
closest to the sun, crimson red, full and ripe

wine coloured days, apples, cherries
strawberries picked tenderly, I imagined you
cradling my face, I, the strawberry
not to bruise or spoil

yet I did not exist, the weeks under the sun
as I toiled within arms reach, sheltering my gaze
beneath my hat of straw
you had said “hello”, you had smiled, more than once
did I misconstrue again?

summer ended, the picking done, you went away
and I watch the rain strike the barren trees
the trees once full of red
fingertips paint the foggy glass
and I cry crimson tears

 

My 500th post. I thank each and everyone of you for supporting and reading what I write.