Liilia Talts Morrison Poems

I went awandering in prickly ditches
Where childhood's bloody scratches pockmarked skinny legs
Deceptive pretty wild rose shrubs reminding
How orange skins uncovered painful quills
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I see them going to and fro
Exploring this and that
They chant, they stretch, they twist their necks
And lie on rubber mats
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They say the woods of Alba
Grow secrets in their soil
And Perigord's fair regions
Hide rarest mushroom spoils
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The day wears down
The light is fading
The afternoon
A hazy thought
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Kindness did not enter
Linen damask silver rooms
Men and women dressed in silk
Never noticed
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We wandered down a narrow lane
My friends and I that day
Just having lunched in a small bar
That time had worn and frayed
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There is a land called Highlands
Where cattle, citrus thrive
White orange blossoms languish
In rolling hills alive
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They say you can't go home again
I say that they are wrong
How often do I spend my hours
In childhood's sunny fields?
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I saw a sailboat on the shelf
A beauty to behold
How could I get it for myself
Inspiring dreams untold
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I strolled along the street one day
And saw a coral rock
Among a sea of little plants
And when I stopped I heard a chant
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