Came I into the orchard,
There called, I spied the tree,
Unlike, yet like the others
It somehow beckoned me.
High among its branches
Tempting fruit it bore;
"Come taste," it seemed to whisper;
I'd heard it all before.
It wasn't just an orchard,
'Twas life's sweet fantasy,
And all the dreams I'd ever dreamed
Were proffered there for me.

by Vincent P. Russo, Jr.

Other poems of VINCENT P. RUSSO, JR. (2)

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