The Picnic
written by: Don Flecknoe
A book plucked from the shelf at random,
Faded petals on an open page,
That book of plays, a gift from you.
Do you remember, the day we stole?
Hidden in the park,
She-oaks murmur in the breeze.
We picnicked on a tartan rug,
Ate bulging salad sandwiches,
You laughed as I spilt beetroot down my shirt.
A bottle of Chardonnay,
We lazed that afternoon away.
***
Above, stars strewn across night’s velvet dome,
And through God’s mighty wheel,
That balmy night of tender love,
We lay there, content.
At dawn we dared to walked along,
A rocky path above those plunging cliffs.
Magenta sails afire in the morning sun,
Boats sailing home across the bay,
laden low, with their haul.
***
Do you remember,
Those few days we spent together?
I have been a member of the Poets and Writers on the Tweed for over five years and have been writing for pleasure for over fifteen years. I am a retired architect, 83 years old. In my career I have been required to write detailed submissions to governmental departments and councils.
Latest posts by Don Flecknoe (see all)
- An Autumn Afternoon - January 22, 2025
- Now - October 14, 2024
- Sunrise, Sunset - August 3, 2024
