Stolen Apples

It's a pitch black

And I'm a boy again

climbing the fence

dropping into the dark yard

to steal the small, red apple

when it was my yard

not so long ago,

when my father last visited

he and I,last visited,

he and I, together,

planted the apple tree

It's there still

In someone elses yard

We sold the house

But not my heart,

not my father's apple tree

 

 

  
نویسنده : بوم رنگ ; ساعت ٢:٠٠ ‎ب.ظ روز سه‌شنبه ٥ آبان ۱۳۸۳
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