The Apple Orchard
A sunny afternoon, with blanket spread,
by Ernestine Northover
Beneath some apple trees, with ample shade,
We'd sit with tray of tea and gingerbread,
Scones with cream, and these were freshly homemade.
Apples hung above us, each ripe and red,
So colourful, they somehow set the scene.
Sampling strawberry jam on thin sliced shortbread,
We'd lay and watch the leaves, with sun between.
Peaceful lazy days were these, and so free,
Whiling away hours, with paint and book,
Our orchard, where under a favoured tree,
We'd relish Peter Pan and Captain Hook.
Those rosy apples, that we'd all consume,
And savour juicy flesh so soft and sweet,
Eating them until we had no more room,
Those halcyon days were to us a treat.
Dappled sunshine sparkled amids the boughs,
And danced on, with a gentle pleasing sway,
Oh What I would give to again just browse,
In that apple orchard, for one more day.
© Ernestine Northover