Les Lieux Étranges
We travel through sunlight and falling leaves,
On the road of orange peel and poppy seeds.
The sidewalks are plentiful with towering oaks, and on shiny brass benches sit happy just folk.
In the fields, the children fly their homemade kites.
Different shapes and colors, no two were alike.
Swooping and swishing like the flight pattern of bees.
Carried high in the sky by the honey scented breeze.