Picked apples fill up a bucket
the warm sun burns the day away
the dress you wore last year
and the year before last;
still, it remains your favourite
Unpicked apples line the arbour
you think back to your kids
playing on a sunny day like today
yet now they are older
such joys that they held dear
now only for the fools
Picked apples sit abandoned
barefoot and twirling
immersed in the glory days
Twirling a wish for another love
singing to the parrots
A wombat looks ready for sleep
The moment passes
you pick up the bucket
back to your empty kitchen
Perhaps you’ll make an apple pie
the eldest son loves them
maybe he will come to visit soon
C & K 