Emily
Emily, you wore socks of white, Stained by the grass, shamrock green, As you danced; the forlorn orchard, Your hidden stage of stress-relief.
Prettier than I'd ever seen, Your flowing hair danced in the wind; Your floral dress twirled o'er your knees And turned my eyes into a thief.
Voyeur, thirteen; I saw you sway, Hidden behind lush apple trees; Wishing I was somewhat braver, Somehow not shaking like a leaf.
You danced so free, barely sixteen, And filled my dreams with birds and bees.
--- 28-8-2020, M.A. Tempels © “... a bref double.”
















