The Picnic


We were young in August,

before the fall,

there was no winter,

under the shade.

The leaves were plump,

dressed in green,

living moisture, hiding the sun.

Smiling as we set up our blanket,

grapes my dear?

basket full, and waiting,

waiting for each other,

for bread,

we looked at the water,

and dreamed of boats,

of being carried away,

with the wind tussling,

our hair,

being pulled this way and that,

over the waves,

until the shore,

then resting, in the sun.

We were filled,

four arms for hugging,

no longer hiding,

and positive,

it would always be this way,

until there was no moon.

moon at night

 Blessings to everyone and PEACE!

“If you love nature, you will love people.”

Poetry © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree

image from google

6 thoughts on “The Picnic

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