5/29 May-be

One of my yearly summer past times is to visit the nooks and crannies in my home and clean.  I find scraps of poems everywhere. Here are today’s findings:

My only visits to the garden lately
have been at midnight.

Only the roses, with their butter-soft faces,
appear in the light of the moon.

I don’t walk to the apple grove anymore;
too many to pick, my children are gone.
I grieve the loss of daybreak baking.

mmm, trying to remember the inspiration – dust bunnies don’t talk…..

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