The afternoon sun
Is filtering through
The leaves of
A great and ancient
Oak.
Under its bower we recline
Shoeless atop a hand-pieced quilt,
You with your head
Upon my lap
And me with my fingers
Sifting slowly
Through your hair.
The remains of our picnic
Are shoved to one side,
Save for two plastic glasses,
A half-full bottle of wine,
And a few left over wedges
Of fine domestic cheese.
We are replete from our feast
Yet insatiable
For each other;
But still we linger
In this very public place,
Drawing out the moment,
Intensifying our anticipation,
Knowing what ecstasy
Awaits us
As soon as the kids
Go to bed
Tonight.
That old tree has seen better days, but that old truck and got a new lease on life!
Oh, it's about the poem… Right?
With your words you have painted the idyllic romantic picnic that could have been a simple lunch break during hard work on the farm in the olden days. But it brings back memories for its reality. And, the twist in the end is both unexpected and humorous.
Falling to a rare sentinel illness and separated from her charges during a retrieval mission Xevera Nanay encounters the biggest threat to her survival but more importantly her autonomy when paramedic Michael Constantine recognizes and imprisons her
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Oh, it's about the poem… Right?
With your words you have painted the idyllic romantic picnic that could have been a simple lunch break during hard work on the farm in the olden days. But it brings back memories for its reality. And, the twist in the end is both unexpected and humorous.
Ron
You have described to utter perfection…
Thanks for the memories…
Diana…🍀
Fee
Regis. 🌺🌼🍁