Chuckled, the muse of delightful eyes, glancing

A Pecan orchard had wandering paths there, before us

Though lost in the myriad of thoughts’ and youthful coquetry

The Moon hung so full on that eve long-sense gone

The gentle light beams led to where a few dreams there, be

Whilst Jasmine capture the essence of fingers with buds in hand?

Tumbling at night under stars flickering whimsically

Tangled wavy auburn hairs and yours’ black sleek threads of onyx

Hungering, for one more moment, as tenderly complex ~as this

The horned owl watched in questioning craves and utter voyaging

Embracing the moment, as one reads a book of tender follies

The aroma of peaches tossed to and fro; so smiling

Walked quietly away, my bare feet met strath, and yours in boots

The Jasmine queried, would we come back?

“Oh… I don’t know,” I replied. And that was that.

The Pecan branches blew so soft, as I pondered

The Moon lit the meandering path, so I remember

I wondered then what life would introduce

But then, might I find your way again?

Saying goodbye to the sweet peach orchard at eighteen

Have not traveled this path joined with any other hand

But, aromatic memories, so fond, still permeate my thoughts

Tenderly passionate youthful flings once silhouetted, vulnerable, apple breasted and gutsy me

©️BoJenn 2016

———————

Chuckled, the muse of delightful eyes, glancing

A Pecan orchard had wandering paths there, before us

Though lost in the myriad of thoughts’ and youthful coquetry

The Moon hung so full on that eve long-sense gone

The gentle light beams led to where a few dreams there, be

Whilst Jasmine capture the essence of fingers with buds in hand?

Tumbling at night under stars flickering whimsically

Tangled wavy auburn hairs and yours’ black sleek threads of onyx

Hungering, for one more moment, as tenderly complex ~as this

The horned owl watched in questioning craves and utter voyaging

Embracing the moment, as one reads a book of tender follies

The aroma of peaches tossed to and fro; so smiling

Walked quietly away, my bare feet met strath, and yours in boots

The Jasmine queried, would we come back?

“Oh… I don’t know,” I replied. And that was that.

The Pecan branches blew so soft, as I ponder now

The Moon lit the meandering path, so I remember

I wondered then what life would introduce

But then, might I find your way again?

Saying goodbye to the sweet peach orchard at eighteen

Have not traveled his path joined with any other hand

But, aromatic memories, so fond, still permeate my thoughts

Tenderly passionate youthful flings once silhouetted, vulnerable, apple breasted and gutsy me

©️BoJenn 2016