meet me in the orchard
and wear your blue silk dress
with the ivory lace on the sleeves
and listen, listen for the sleepy buzz
of the waking bees
meet me in the orchard
come secretly away
to see the shyly-opening daffodils
in puddles of new green
and the robins at their play
meet me in the orchard
underneath our favorite tree
where apple blossoms swell the air
i taste their sweetness on your lips
as you take your fill of me
meet me in the orchard
and in this sanctuary stay
plant us in this rich earth
let our roots run deep as time
tended lovingly all our days
About the Creator
Sara Little
Writer and high school English teacher seeking to empower and inspire young creatives, especially of the LGBTQIA+ community
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Sara Little and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.