At noon
I Plucked a fruit
Quenched a thirst
Dipped my face in
Tenderness crunched
At noon
Put back at root
A return to first
With an elated grin
I ate, I munched.
At noon,
The tree was bent
So I could pick with room
The fruits all grown well
Grasping arms, air.
At noon,
Fruits filled with scent
The tree did bloom
Holding onto smell
Vales of peaches and pears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem