HAPPY DAYS

Hanging there
Proud as proud can be
Delicate pink papery
Folds of petals
A powdery form of
Nature’s pink
Gently moving
In a cool lush breeze

Petals floating to grass
Grass green as
The cucumber slices

Placed between paper thin
Slices of home-made bread
That catch my throat
As I push them
Back
With an eager tongue

Blinded by the sun
I’m gently pushed back by my sweet
Love, onto the fine spring grass
As his eager tongue searches
The crevices of my mouth.

Melting hot summer days
Don’t care for me
As nature does what she will, as
We make love under
The blossom tree

Fiona Munro 2005