Fruit

p1190061

Fruit

Entering another garden
The air is different here, suffused
With other scents, hot wrinkled fruit
Wistful as old baboushkas
A clogged pond full of bottlebrush weed
The trees hang over like guests
Waiting for the dessert…

I am not part of this wooden tabled existence
Wine and cigarettes
The children which have children
The words which drift through the hedge

I am stuck with inky fingers
And a heart that keeps ticking
Later,  I will eat the memory
With cream and a spoon.

Veronica Aldous 2016 all rights reserved

Advertisements

About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Lulu.com. Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
This entry was posted in poems and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s